Mirror of Paths
by Athey
Summary: 5th yr - Sirius has died. Harry's learned the truth of the prophecy. The weight of his destiny is heavy on his shoulders. Regret over years of wasted chances to learn and better himself plague his mind as he's faced with an opportunity to gain the knowledge of a more studious version of himself. But what price does that knowledge come with? Drarry mentor!Voldemort grey!harry slash
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hermione let out a growl of frustration as she picked up a roll of parchment and began thrashing it over the ginger head beside her.

"Oi! Oi! Wha! Wha'd I do?!" Ron exclaimed, ducking out of the way and bringing his hands up over his head defensively.

"Ronald Weasley, you – are – absolutely – hopeless!" she ground out as she continued to whack him with the parchment.

Harry looked up at them with carefully concealed mirth in his eyes. He wasn't even sure what had brought this on, but at least at this moment, Hermione's wrath was directed solely at Ron, and not at him, so he could simply enjoy the amusement.

"And you!" Hermione said, suddenly twisting and pointing the now mostly crumpled parchment at Harry, the same way she would be pointing her finger, were her hand not full, "you let his – his – _laziness_ bleed off onto you! I know you could do better, Harry, I've seen you're work when you actually find yourself interested in a subject, and it's just _so frustrating_ to see you wasting your talent away and slacking off in your studies just because _Ronald_ is a lazy bludger who never puts any value in his work, and you don't want to make him feel _stupid_ by showing up your friend!"

"Oi!" Ron groused again as he ran his hand through his ginger mop, after the assault on it from Hermione.

"You constantly underachieve just because you don't want Ron's inferiority complex from all of his brothers, acting up, and it's just _infuriating!"_ Hermione continued on, ignoring Ron beside her, who was getting progressively redder in the face.

Harry just gaped at her openly, unsure how to escape from this situation without making it worse.

"How the heck did all this even start?" Harry squawked finally.

" _Ronald_ here doesn't think that history is important _at all_ ," she ground out and Ron just gave her the stink eye before rolling his eyes more dramatically.

"How is that different from any other study session? Or any session during the previous five years?" Harry asked, still bewildered by the intensity of this particular argument over their academic performance.

"The _difference_ is that now we know..." she lowered her voice and looked around the deserted common room, "we know about the prophecy, and what it is that people expect you to do. Just think of how much more prepared you would be now if you'd actually been putting forth your best effort all this time?"

Harry scowled and turned his head, looking into the fire and trying not to get too angry or bitter. He'd thought about this himself more times than he would like, and it only led him to getting more angry every time. "Believe me, Hermione, I _have_ thought about that. If Dumbledore had actually _told_ me earlier, I could be a lot more prepared now than I am and maybe Sirius wouldn't be dead – maybe even Cedric. Who knows, but I can't go back and change things can I?"

"It's not just if Dumbledore had _told_ you – although, I have to admit that I definitely agree with you there and I still don't know what he was thinking... I mean I can see the value in him wanting you to enjoy your childhood without the prophecy hanging over your head, but the simple reality is that you _didn't_ enjoy it, and you always had the threat of Voldemort hanging over your head _anyway_ , so why keep it hidden for so long? But I'm getting off track – the point is, even without knowing about the prophecy, you still could have been doing so much better in your classes all these years if you weren't lazing about with _Ronald here_ ," she turned her sharp gaze on Ron and ground out his name, "and if he'd just put a bit more effort into his own work, instead of always wanting to bum about like a lazy loafer!"

"Hey, now! You can't pin this on me!" Ron shouted defensively.

"Yeah, Hermione, you can't blame Ron. I mean, it's _my_ fault I didn't put a lot of effort into my studies – no one elses," Harry said, hoping desperately to stop the obviously escalating fight.

Hermione looked for a moment as if she were drawing herself up for further argument before she suddenly deflated and sat back in the squashy couch, heavily. "I'm sorry," she sighed miserably. "I know you're right, I'm just _so frustrated_. I feel helpless. Like there's so much that needs to be done, and I'm just so _afraid_ for you, Harry..."

Harry nodded his head solemnly. "Yeah," he whispered. "I know... me too."

"But that's why we're doing this, right?" Ron put in, motioning to the pile of books and parchment and Hermione's mass of notes. "You wanted to do all this extra study to try and be more prepared, yeah?"

Hermione sighed and gave a slight shrug.

It was the night of September second, in their sixth year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry – the night after their first day of classes, and Hermione had gathered up as much study material as she could I an attempt to figure out what materials to review in an attempt to help her friend in the only way she knew how. With knowledge.

"I still don't see why you went off on me like that, though," Ron grumbled under his breath with a pout. "All I said was that I don't get why we should even bother reviewing History stuff. It's not like any of that is going to help Harry defeat You-Know-Who."

"That's just the thing, Ron! We don't know that! If we don't study out history, we only doom ourselves to repeating the mistakes of the past. We can also take lessons from people of the past who dealt with difficult situations as options we can try for ourselves," Hermione argued fervently.

"I really don't think that –" Ron hesitated and pulled up an old well-worn history book from beside him, under a pile of parchment and rolled his eyes at the page, "that some old mirror that lets you see different versions of yourself, that's been lost for five hundred years, is going to help Harry survive You-Know-Who."

"But we don't _know_ that, do we, Ronald?" Hermione shot back in obvious annoyance. "And there's a lot more to history than old lost artifacts!"

Harry cocked an eyebrow at his two friends as they began bickering again and finally he just gave a resigned sigh and looked back down at the pile of notes that he'd been reading before Hermione's outburst. The notes in question were suddenly obscured as the history book that Ron had been holding was tossed over and fell in his lap, still open. Harry spared his friends a glance, cringing slightly as they continued to argue rather heatedly. He looked back down and made to move the book when the illustration on the page caught his eye.

It was a drawing of a full-length standing mirror with ornate gilded framing around the edges and writing in fuþark runes that Harry only recognized vaguely because the class was one of Hermione's favorites and she was always talking about it. Standing in front of the mirror was what Harry assumed to be a Hogwarts student because he appeared to be wearing a much older fashion of school robes. On the chest of the robes and visible on both the boy as he stood in front of the mirror as well as his reflection, was his house crest. However they didn't match. On the student standing in front of the mirror, it was obviously a Gryffindor crest, while in the reflection, it was Slytherin.

It was due to this one such detail that Harry found himself looking over to the opposite page and reading the description.

 _ **The Mirror of Alternate Paths**_ _was the creation of_ _Eoessa Sakndenberg who was Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from 1487 until shortly before her death in 1509. Headmistress Sakndenberg was the first headmistress or headmaster of Hogwarts to make any serious attempts at doing away with the Four House system at the school. While her efforts were very unpopular and she did eventually cease her attempts, she persisted until her death that the House system at the school caused more harm than good._

 _Before becoming Headmistress, Sakndenberg was Head of Ravenclaw House for twelve years, and the Ancient Runic Magic and Languages Professor. She wrote several impassioned missives on the bitter division between the houses, the rivalry, and how the stereotypes associated with each house created unrealistic expectations for the students, from their family, their fellow classmates, and the students themselves who try over-hard to fit into a pre-designated mold, rather than be themselves or fulfill their natural potential._

 _The Mirror is said to have had the power to show a student who they would have been, had they been sorted into a different house. In Sakndenberg's writings, she stated that in numerous instances of it's use, the person who looked into the mirror saw a drastically different person looking back at them. A person who had had a life, so entirely different to the one they had lived that their reflection was nearly unrecognizable in personality. All of this, because of the decision of an enchanted hat at the age of eleven._

 _She said it was too great a power and influence for the school to wield on a child._

 _A few historians who have researched what remains of her notes on the mirror's creation, suggest that it had other abilities besides simply_ showing _the person what they could have been, if sorted differently. It is unclear exactly what these features are, however, or what they could have done. Researchers suggest that it was some sort of information sharing, that showed the viewer what sort of life their alternate self had lived and this is how they were able to tell that their other self had lived such a different life. Otherwise, it seems unlikely that people could have claimed to know that their other self was so drastically different, simply by looking at a reflection._

 _It is unknown what happened to the Mirror of Paths. The last recorded sighting and use of the mirror was in 1842 by Headmaster Emeril Everard. He claimed the Mirror was still in the school at that time, but did not say where it was hidden. He claimed that he had come across it because the protections that had been in place to keep it hidden had failed over the ages. He also stated that he considered the mirror vaguely dangerous because of what it could show a person about themselves. At the same time he also stated that it could be a powerful tool and was too important a historical artifact to simply destroy either._

 _He said that he hid the mirror behind a powerful array of charms that would prevent it from being found by the wrong person with the wrong intentions, and impossible to be found by someone who was not looking for it._

 _Since that time, many people have attempted to locate the Mirror, but none have succeeded, or at least, none of them had succeeded and written about it._

Harry blinked at the page, looked back at the illustration one last time, then shrugged and closed the book.

It was an interesting enough story, he supposed, but honestly, he thought that Ron was rather right in this case – he couldn't imagine any way in which knowing about this mirror would help him defeat Voldemort.

– –

Friday of that week, Harry got a note from Dumbledore asking him to come up to his office that evening. Dumbledore had told Harry about giving him special 'lessons' this year, and so he found himself going up to the Headmaster's office with a sense of excitement and nerves.

After giving the password and climbing up the moving spiral staircase to Dumbledore's office, Harry knocked and was called inside. Harry quickly learned that Dumbledore had no intention at all of using these 'lessons' to teach Harry advanced dueling, like he had hoped, but instead, they were going to be reviewing information about Voldemort.

Harry was slightly disgruntled by this, but tried to hide it and remain polite to his Headmaster. Just as Dumbledore was preparing the Pensieve for the viewing of the first memory, one of the little silver instruments on his desk began to spin rather quickly and emitting strange little puffs of red smoke.

Harry blinked at it in confusion and glanced over at Dumbledore in time to see him frowning rather deeply.

"I apologize, Harry, but I'm afriad this is something that requires my immediate attention. I shouldn't be gone long, can you wait for me?" Dumbledore asked as he began to stand and make his way over towards his large Floo.

"Er, sure, Sir," Harry said with a quick nod.

Dumbledore nodded in thanks as he tossed in a handful of floo powder into the hearth and called in an address Harry didn't quite hear, and quickly disappeared inside.

Harry heaved a sigh before sinking back into his seat, wondering how long exactly this would take. Five minutes later and Harry was exceedingly bored. He looked around the office aimlessly, wondering what all that various trinkets did before his eyes began to travel over the walls filled with portraits of former headmaster's.

Harry's eyes fell upon the portrait of 'Emeril Everard'. He remembered the portrait more specifically because of the incident last Christmas when Mr. Weasley had been attacked by Nagini in the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore had asked _this_ portrait to go check on Mr. Weasley, since he apparently had another portrait in the Ministry of Magic. But there was something _else_ that was nagging at the back of his mind about that name.

"Oh! That's right! You're the one that hid the Mirror of Paths!" Harry exclaimed as it finally came to him.

The old man in the portrait opened his eyes instantly and blinked at Harry in surprise.

"What's what?" the man said, looking at Harry curiously.

"Sorry, sir, I was just trying to think of where I'd heard your name before. I read this bit earlier this week about a Mirror that could show a person what they would have been like if they'd been sorted into another house, and – it was _you_ , that hid it – right?"

"Ah... yes, you are quite right," the man in the portrait said sagely, nodding his head. "You know... as I recall – and I do apologize for intruding upon what I know was a private conversation, but there really isn't much a portrait can do _but_ listen – but I recall you once telling Professor Dumbledore that the sorting hat had once tried to put you in Slytherin house, isn't that right?"

Harry blanched, disoriented by the painting's knowledge and that it had actually _remembered_ that detail.

"Er... yeah, that's right," Harry mumbled.

Everard hummed and nodded his head slowly. "It is a very powerful artifact – the Mirror, I mean."

"Did you use it, sir?"

"Oh yes, I did," Everard said with a chuckle followed a moment later by a sigh. "It's a temptation that no Ravenclaw could possibly have passed by. An opportunity for another you's lifetime of knowledge..." he said this last bit wistfully.

"Lifetime of knowledge?" Harry echoed in confusion. "What do you mean? I thought it just showed you what you'd be like if you'd been sorted into a different house."

"Oh, it does quite a bit more than that. We all walk a path in life, and the path we walk determines what we learn; the knowledge we accumulate along the way, and the lessons we learn from our experiences and our trials. The person you see on the other side of that mirror is a you that followed a different path, and yet that person is still _you_. The mirror can give you the opportunity to assimilate that other you's life-time of knowledge. The true question is whether or not it's worth the price."

"What price?" Harry asked in an almost breathless voice.

"That depends on you."

"Huh?"

The portrait chuckled and shook his head, leaving Harry to scowl at him before turning his gaze away and thinking over what the man had said.

If Harry found this mirror, he would be able to assimilate the knowledge of another version of himself. Hermione's rant earlier that week had touched a nerve – one that Harry himself had honestly brooded over quite a bit over the last summer. If he _had_ taken his studies more seriously over the previous five years, what sort of difference could it make in the task he had to do now? He had decided it was stupid worrying about it now since there wasn't anything he could do to change the past, but with this mirror...

If he could assimilate the knowledge of a _Ravenclaw_ Harry, he could very well suddenly know a _tonne_ of magic that he currently didn't know mostly because he'd never cared to really bother with any extra curricular studies. Or really any studies at all. He'd always known that Hermione would be there for him when he needed her, and _she_ knew so much... But that wouldn't necessarily be the same for Harry that had been sorted into another house.

"Sir?" Harry asked, turning his attention back to the portrait.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Everard asked.

"Uhm... I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me where to find the Mirror, would you?"

The old man in the portrait eyed him shrewdly for several long moments and Harry began to fidget under the penetrating gaze. Harry was just about to tell the man to forget it

after all, when Everard spoke again.

"Yes. Yes, I think I will. Considering what's on your shoulders... things about your life... I've overheard things in this office – many things. I'm bound to always aid the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and I cannot directly do anything against... but that does not mean that I can't do this. Yes, I think that this could very well be quite a good idea. Go to the forth floor, down the Serpentine Corridor to the statue of Marimore the Peasant across from that awful ugly pig gargoyle. Do you know the one?"

Harry frowned in thought for a moment, trying to picture where the man was describing. Finally, getting the picture in his mind, he nodded his head. "Yeah, I know where that is."

"The statue of Marimore the Peasant is holding a small hand mirror. Stand before the statue and say 'I am in search of Alternate Paths'. That should do it."

Harry blinked before nodding his head with a bit more enthusiasm. "Wow, thanks! I'll go check it out later."

The man in the portrait gave Harry a small smirk and another curt nod of his head before settling back in his chair and closing his eyes to reassume the illusion of sleep that all of the other paintings still maintained around them.

Harry rather doubted that _any_ of them were _actually_ asleep.

Several more minutes passed before the floo once again activated and Dumbledore reappeared in the office. He looked a bit unsettled, but quickly composed himself and resumed the meeting with Harry.

They ended up watching a memory from Bob Ogden as he made a trip to a village called Little Hangleton where he visited the Gaunts, a wizarding family that lived in a hovel, spoke parseltongue, and looked and acted barking mad. Dumbledore explained the circumstances of Tom Riddle's birth – namely, how Marope Gaunt had desperately wanted to escape from her Father and Brother, and had used a love potion to bewitch the handsome muggle man who lived up the road from her family shack.

Harry left Dumbledore's office not entirely sure how to feel about what he'd witnessed. He felt horrible for Merope Gaunt, and while he definitely didn't approve of her using a love potion against Tom Riddle Sr., the fact that she had given the man the antidote in hopes that he truly might love her, only to have her heart broken and find herself abandoned and penniless, was quite distressing.

He was so preoccupied with it, that he _almost_ forgot all about the mirror that Headmaster Everard's portrait had told him how to find.

 _Almost._

At the last minute, he made his way down to the fourth floor and found the statue of Marimore and spoke the passphrase. The statue that had been motionless stone before bent her head up and looked at Harry with grey lifeless eyes. She inclined her head in his direction before twisting to look at the stone wall behind her. She waved her hand, still holding the small hand mirror, at the wall behind her and it suddenly shifted with a great heavy shuddering of stone several inches back, into the wall, before sliding to the side. A moment later and Harry was greeted with a door where there had been nothing but a flat wall before.

Hesitantly, he stepped forward, pushed the door open and entered what he discovered to be a small room, barely bigger than a large walk-in pantry. In the back of the room, against the wall, was the same mirror that he had seen in the illustration in the book.

Harry jumped as the door he'd just stepped through suddenly closed behind him. Several wall-mounted torches suddenly lit themselves and Harry had to wait a moment for his eyes to adjust to the slightly dimmer lighting.

He reached back and tried the door knob, relieved to find that it opened without any protest. He closed the door again and turned back to look at the mirror. He hesitated for a moment before solidifying his resolve and stepping forward to stand directly in front of the mirror.

At first he saw nothing reflected in it's surface but swirling mist, and frowned. He wondered if he had to do something special to activate it, or to chose which house it showed you having been sorted into. He looked at the runes carved into the gilded frame and grumbled to himself, knowing that Hermione would probably be able to read them.

Suddenly a shiver shot down his spine and he gasped in surprise. Nothing else seemed to happen for a moment, but then the mist in the mirror began to swirl faster and then clear. A figure began to appear in the distance, growing larger and clearer as it seemed to be walking towards the mirror. A moment later and Harry found himself standing face-to-face with himself, looking rather bewildered and wearing robes and a tie trimmed with silver and green.

The Slytherin Harry was frowning rather deeply and giving him an obviously suspicious look. "What is this?" he asked sharply. "Who are you?"

"W-who am I –?" Harry sputtered, thrown off by the question.

"Greetings boys, and welcome to the Mirror of Alternate Paths," a woman's voice suddenly echoed through the room, sounding more like a cavern than a small cupboard.

"Mirror of _what!?_ " Slytherin-Harry asked indignantly. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"I am an impression of Eoessa Sakndenberg. A bit of her knowledge that she imbibed in this object when she created it."

"Sakndenberg? Do you mean the one that was a Headmistress of Hogwarts?" Slytherin-Harry asked, cocking a single eyebrow.

Harry blinked at his reflection, surprised that this other him could possibly recognize the name of one of many obscure Hogwarts Headmistresses or Headmasters.

"Yes. I, or rather, she, was once Headmistress of this school. I created this mirror for several purposes, although I will admit that I feel it's greatest value is in the exchange of knowledge."

"And what exactly does _that_ mean?" Slytherin-Harry asked.

"You are two different versions of the same boy. A boy who's path diverged the day a tattered old hat was placed upon your head and called out which house was to become your new home and thus, drastically altering the path you would take for the rest of your life. One of you is a Harry Potter who was sorted into Slytherin House, and the other is a Harry Potter that was sorted into the House of Gryffindor."

"Gryffindor?!" the Slytherin-Harry guffawed.

"Why Slytherin? I was hoping I could do this with a Ravenclaw version of me," Harry complained.

"Did _you_ do this?" Slytherin-Harry asked, accusingly at his Gryffindor-Reflection.

"Only one of you have to visit the Mirror to activate it and call the other. The Harry garbed in Gold and Red called you here," the voice of Sakndenberg spoke calmly.

"Why?" Slytherin-Harry asked, pinning Harry with a sharp gaze.

"I was told that you could use this mirror to gain the knowledge that you would have gained if you'd been sorted into another house. That's why... well, that's why I was hoping for Ravenclaw. I figured that maybe I would have been more... studious, or something, if there was a version of me in Ravenclaw, and if I gained all of his knowledge, it would help me the most."

The Slytherin-Harry cocked a single eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

"You do not get to chose who you meet in the mirror," Sakndenberg's voice said calmly, "merely, you will find the house that you were most likely to have been sorted into, had you not been sorted where you were. The hat wanted Slytherin for you. It was _you_ who begged it to sort you anywhere else."

"You begged the hat not to sort you into Slytherin?" the Slytherin-Harry exclaimed incredulously.

"Of course!" Harry said back, indignantly. "Even when I was only eleven, I knew enough to know I didn't want to be anywhere near Draco Malfoy, or to end up sorted into the same house that _Voldemort_ came from."

The Slytherin-Harry only cocked a single eyebrow, and the corner of his lips seemed to twitch with something – maybe amusement? Harry wasn't quite sure. Then he turned his gaze back to their surroundings, and, Harry supposed, the mirror itself. "So what's the deal with this sharing knowledge thing?" he asked.

"You have each lived drastically different lives, and thusly, learned drastically different lessons." Sakndenberg's voice replied. "The accumulated knowledge you have each gained since the age of eleven will be copied into each other's minds. You will each gain the knowledge of your counterpart, as well as impressions of his memories. That is – should you both agree to do it."

"Both agree?" Harry asked, in confusion. "Why do we both have to _agree?_ He isn't even real!"

"I damn well _am_ real!" Slytherin-Harry said indignantly. "From where I'm standing, _you_ seem to be the imaginary one.

"What!?"

"You are both as real as the other,"Sakndenberg said. "You both exist, but in worlds parallel to each other. The two worlds in question are chosen from the divergence moment when your sorting occurred."

"You're referring to the Many-World interpretation in Quantum Physics," Slytherin Harry said, almost excitedly. "Before the theory was made, reality had always been viewed as a single unfolding history. Many-worlds, however, views reality as a many-branched tree, wherein every possible quantum outcome is realized. So from the moment when the sorting occurred, four different universes would have branched off, each one having a version of me sorted into one of the four houses."

"Whut?" Harry blanched.

"Oh Merlin, forget it," Slytherin-Harry said with a sneer and a disdainful look in Harry's direction. "I forget I'm talking with a _Gryffindor_."

"Hey!"

"Honestly, I don't see much benefit to me with sharing my knowledge with him," Slytherin-Harry said, with a jerk of his chin in Harry's direction. "I rather doubt he knows _anything_ of value to _me_."

"Hey, I know things!" Harry snapped back indignantly.

"Oh really? Like what?"

"Well. I er..." Harry hesitated, searching desperately in his mind for something worthwhile. "I can cast a patronus! And most of last year, I ran a Defense club and taught a bunch of other students here how to duel."

His Slytherin counterpart hesitated for a moment and looked thoughtful. His expression took on a calculating sort of look after a while before he pinned Harry once again with those sharp eyes.

"Do you know about the prophecy?" he asked so suddenly that Harry almost blanched.

"The Prophecy?! Er – yeah, I know about it."

"The whole thing?" Slytherin-Harry asked, suddenly more interested.

"Yeah," Harry said, warily.

Slytherin-Harry's nodded slowly and looked suddenly more pensive before finally heaving a sigh and shrugging. "Yeah, I suppose I might be willing to do this. You might know _something_ useful. I don't expect there to be _much_ , mind you, but there might be _something_ worth the exchange. That is... unless there's some sort of catch."

"Catch?" Harry asked before remembering what Headmaster Everard's portrait had said about a price. "Yeah, what is the price, anyway?" Harry asked, directing his attention to the voice, and the mirror, rather than his Slytherin counterpart.

"The price is only the knowledge, itself," Sakndenberg's voice said back.

Harry frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Sometimes accepting knowledge can be quite painful," the Slytherin-Harry said quietly. "Quite... _costly_. Is that what you mean?"

"Yes," Sakndenberg said calmly.

Harry wasn't quite sure if he really understood what that was all about, honestly.

"If I gain all of his knowledge, it isn't going to make me _like_ him, is it?" Harry asked warily.

"I'd like to know the answer to that one, myself," the Slytherin Harry said, giving Harry an obviously disdainful look. Harry scowled back at him.

"Who we are is formed by our memories of our experiences. Your memories will still be your own, and you will still be the product of those memories. However, you will also have access to select necessary memories of your counterpart."

"Necessary memories?" the Slytherin-Harry asked.

"Some knowledge is not useful at all without context," she replied back simply.

Slytherin-Harry nodded. "I suppose that's true. But I won't mistake any of his memories for mine?"

"That should not be a problem."

Slytherin-Harry turned his gaze back on Harry, seeming to size him up. "Well, do you still want to do this?" he asked shortly, a moment later.

Harry flinched and then scowled at the other boy. "How do I know that anything _you_ know would even be worthwhile to _me?"_ Harry said back, feeling rather annoyed by this other version of himself.

The Slytherin scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I can guarantee that I know a great many things that you wouldn't know."

"Yeah, probably a bunch of Dark Arts," Harry muttered.

"You can't honestly expect to fight against, or defend yourself against something, that you don't know the first thing about, do you?" the Slytherin shot back.

Harry grudgingly admitted in his own mind that he just might have had that same thought once or twice, but wasn't about to admit it out loud right now.

"Besides I know a lot more than just _some Dark Arts._ What electives did you take starting in third year?"

"Oh, uhm, Care of Magical Creatures and Divination."

The Slytherin made a small scoffing noise again and rolled his eyes. "That's _it?_ Just like a _Gryffindor_. Taking the _soft_ choices for an easy O."

"Well, what'd _you_ take, then?!" Harry snapped.

"Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy, and I took Magical Creatures for third and fourth years, although I dropped it in fifth since it was obviously a waste of time. I've also continued on with Astronomy, and I've been maintaining some muggle studies the last few years."

"You're taking Muggle Studies?!" Harry asked incredulously. This was shocking for two reasons – one, he was muggle raised, so it really seemed just _silly_ to take a class to understand them – and two, because he was a Slytherin and they seemed to despise muggles as a general rule.

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. "Not the class _'Muggle Studies'_ – I mean, I've been studying a few muggle subjects. Namely science and maths."

"Oh," Harry said, blinking in surprise. This really did catch him a bit off guard. It had never even _occurred_ to him to try keeping up with a muggle education on subjects like those. "What made you start doing _that?"_

The Slytherin Harry gave him a disdainful sneer. "A mentor of mine pointed out the value of knowledge, no matter the source, and that without progress there is only stagnation."

Harry had to blink at this as well. Okay, maybe getting a copy of this gits knowledge would be even more beneficial that he'd originally anticipated.

Finally, Harry gave a final decisive nod of his head. "Yeah, okay. Let's do this."

"Yay," Slytherin-Harry said in a sarcastic drawl.

"There is no going back from this point on," Sakndenberg's voice rang clearly into the surrounding space. "Do you accept this fact before going forward?"

"Yes."

"Yes," each of the two Harry's said.

"Then press the palms of your hands on each side of the frame and touch your foreheads against the mirror," she instructed.

Harry hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling the nerves build up in his gut and wondering if he might be making a huge mistake. He quickly shoved the thought aside. This was _exactly_ what he'd been talking about just earlier that week. Gaining five-years worth of knowledge that he missed out on because he'd been lazy and apathetic. _This_ was exactly what he _needed_.

Harry reached out and put his hands on either side of the mirror frame before leaning forward in sync with his green-and-silver clad counterpart. The two pressed their foreheads against the mirror at the same time. At first Harry didn't feel anything except for the cold surface of the mirror. But then there was a sudden white flash in his mind, temporarily blinding and disorienting him and sending him falling back several feet until he hit the floor and blacked out.

Harry woke up some time later – how long, exactly, he really had no idea. His head felt heavy and muddled and he had a monster of a migraine. He was completely disoriented for several moments as he tried to make sense of his surroundings and what had happened. The room was even dimmer than it had been before, as the wall torches were only barely burning now. He looked over to where the mirror had sat before and blanched as he found that it was gone. Harry stood up on wobbly legs, looking around and wondering if he might have somehow imagined the whole thing. But then his eyes caught sight of something on the floor. A small hand-mirror was laying there innocuously.

Harry hesitated for a moment, torn between what to do. Leave? Examine it? He wasn't sure. But then, just as suddenly, he was overcome with the urge to pick up the mirror and take it with him.

Unsure where the urge came from, and rather wary that the urge existed at all, Harry bent over, picked up the mirror and examined it. At first, he was afraid that he'd see the Slytherin-Harry in the reflection, but only his own image stared back at him. Nothing seemed particularly curious about the mirror, and he considered putting it back down and just leaving, but something inside him _insisted_ that he keep it.

Heaving a sigh and wondering if he were making a huge mistake, Harry slipped the mirror into his rucksack and left the room.

– –

The first moment that Harry found himself realizing that something had, in fact occurred for sure, happened the next day when he was sitting in the common room with Ron and Hermione working on homework. Harry began to work on a reading for Transfiguration in preparation for an essay that had been assigned, when he realized that he'd read it before. Or, at least, he already knew the material. He had no memory of having _actually_ read it before, but he definitely knew the material discussed in the chapter.

And he knew it quite well too.

He sat back for a moment, letting his mind run over the topics discussed in the chapter in greater and greater detail, and the further he thought about it, the more he realized he _knew_. Harry pulled out the bit of parchment that laid out the requirements of the assignment and knew, in that moment, that he could start writing the essay right then and there, with only minimal reference to the book.

This was _child's_ stuff. Maybe McGonagall had given them an easy assignment since it was only the first week of school?

Shrugging, Harry pulled out a clean sheet of parchment and began laying out an outline of the major points he needed to cover, and various details he wanted to put into each section of the essay. He did a quick mental tally, and knew that the essay would end up a good foot longer than necessary if he included all of the details he'd put into his bullet points and didn't see much value in the extra time and effort on such an obviously toss-away paper at the start of term. He read over the outline again and began to trim it down, making mental notes of a few paragraph starts and how he'd structure his closing paragraph.

He'd just started writing out his introductory paragraph on a new piece of parchment when Hermione looked over his shoulder and exclaimed, "Harry, that's fantastic!"

Harry jumped, having been rather focused on his work and not really realizing she'd been so close. "Huh?" he said, rather ungracefully.

"I _knew_ you could do it if you put your mind to it!" she beamed at him. "This is a _really_ well laid out outline!"

Harry blinked in confusion and looked down at work. That was the moment when it clicked in his mind, like he'd been in a dark room and someone had suddenly turned on the light.

He'd _never_ done anything like this before. His essays were always unstructured messes. He'd never honestly gotten the hang of the whole 'outlining' thing. He would always indignantly insist that he didn't really see the point, and his work always de-evolved into a mess, even when he bothered to try and outline it ahead of time.

"But, are you really sure you're ready to jump right into the paper, Harry?" Hermione continued on a moment later. "I mean, it looks like you know the material from the outline... did you read ahead?" she asked with hopeful surprise in her voice.

"I..." Harry's voice trailed off and his mind swirled with confusion. He hadn't read ahead... he was sure of that. But at the same time, he felt like he'd read this stuff at least a year ago. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to think of when he might have read up on this subject before. He even felt like he'd discussed the subject with others before. Like... like... he'd helped someone? Someone... someone had asked him about it once, and he'd sat down with the books in the common room and explained it to her... But that couldn't be right. First off, no one would ever come to _Harry_ in hopes of an explanation for _Transfiguration._ Defense, maybe, but not _Transfiguration._

Maybe it was someone in the D.A.? But no... it was definitely in the common room. It was in that pair of squashy black leather chairs in front of the –

Harry's thoughts came to a sudden halt as his mind seized. There were no black leather chairs in the Gryffindor common room. And the person his mind was supplying as the one who had asked for his help was gradually growing clearer, and that person was not wearing red and gold. She was vaguely familiar, but Harry couldn't quite place her face. He'd seen her in the halls...

"Harry? Are you alright?" Hermione's concerned voice broke him out of his stupor and he blinked at her dumbly before nodding slowly and swallowing past the lump in his throat.

These were... these were his other self's memories – weren't they?

It had really happened. He'd really done it.

This was what he'd wanted, right? So why was he freaking out?

Harry shook his head, trying to clear his muddled mind and refocus. This was perfect, really. The knowledge had just come to him. The whole essay outline thing had happened like muscle memory. It felt like something he'd done a thousand times – so many times that he didn't even think before starting; he'd just _done it._ He hadn't even remembered any of that extra stuff about tutoring the Slytherin girl in the dungeon common room until he'd really gone fishing for the memories, and even they they were so vague they certainly couldn't be dangerous.

So why did he have such a powerful sense of foreboding?

– –

Things seemed mostly normal over the next few days. The most disconcerting thing was that he often didn't actually _realize_ when he was using knowledge gained from his other self, instead of his own original knowledge. It was like there was no difference at all in his mind to identify what was what. It was all _just there_. He had somehow expected that he'd just _know_ somehow, when he was accessing the things he'd magically learned from his counterpart, but he couldn't.

It made for some awkward situations with Ron and Hermione when Harry was suddenly very well informed on subjects that he would normally never be informed on.

Like runes.

He knew a lot about runes. Before getting the knowledge from the Mirror of Paths, Harry had known basically nothing about ancient runes. He knew it was a phonetic alphabet, and that the various runes also could have meanings, and that you could carve them into things and permanently enchant something... and that was where his knowledge ended.

Now he realized that there was a lot more to it than that. For starters, it wasn't just _one_ alphabet. Out of the specifically Runic Alphabets, there was Elder Fuþark and it's subsidiaries used in the various Germanic, Scandinavian, and Anglo-Saxon languages, like Middle English, Medieval Scandinavian, Proto-Norse, etc. But 'Ancient Runes' as a subject also covered several other archaic writing systems and languages, such as Greek, Etruscan, Gothic, Comptic, and Latin.

And Harry _knew_ a lot of them. He found that he seemed to know a lot about the Gothic writing system that was dominant in the Greco-Roman culture around the Black Sea. But he wasn't sure _why_. Hell, he found he was practically _fluent_ in it, which was just extremely bewildering.

But after Harry had spent twenty minutes giving Hermione an in-depth explanation and introduction over the Old Italic script, or the Etruscan Alphabet, that was the origin of both the Latin Alphabet and the Runic Alphabets – a subject that Hermione's Ancient Runes class was apparently only just about to start covering – Hermione just gaped at him and then quite suddenly and forcefully dragged him out of Gryffindor tower and to the Room of Requirement with Ron trailing behind them.

Once inside, she demanded to know what was going on and Harry heaved a heavy resigned sigh before explaining the whole thing to both of his friends.

When he'd finished describing his discovery and encounter with the Mirror of Paths, Hermione looked torn between horror and intrigue. Harry wondered just what sort of information Hermione could get if she got a copy of her Ravenclaw self's knowledge. He rather suspected she was secretly wondering the same thing.

And in Hermione's case, Harry was entirely sure that it _would_ be a Ravenclaw Hermione. Anyone with half a brain could tell that Hermione probably belonged in Ravenclaw a lot more than she did in Gryffindor. She'd even been one of the few 'hatstalls' in their year, and while she had never admitted as much, Harry suspected she had spent those four and a half minutes under the sorting hat convincing it to put her in Gryffindor, instead of Ravenclaw.

As he expected, Hermione ended up insisting that Harry show her to where he'd found the Mirror of Paths hidden. He insisted that when he left the room, the Mirror had vanished, only to be replaced with a small hand mirror.

She examined the hand mirror, cast a few diagnostic spells, and promptly insisted he take her to where he'd seen the bigger one, _anyway._

When they got there, Harry spoke the same pass phrase he'd spoken to the statue before, but this time, nothing happened.

Hermione stood before the statue and tried it as well, but the result was the same. They asked him if he was sure it was the right place – he was; and if he were sure that was what he'd said – he was sure.

In the end Hermione seemed slightly put-out and obviously frustrated. She settled with testing Harry's new found knowledge by dragging him all the way back to the Room of Requirement and spending the next hour randomly quizzing him on a wide variety of subjects.

When Harry had little to no trouble with about 90% of the subjects she quizzed him on, his two friends were left rather stunned and dumbfounded.

"Did I really not know any of this stuff before?" Harry had finally asked, frowning deeply, and scrunching up his forehead in confusion and mild disbelief. It _really and truly_ felt like he'd known most of this stuff for _ages_. And so much of it was just _so obvious_ too. Or... it certainly seemed so now. Had he really been _that stupid_ before? He certainly hadn't thought his slacking in his classes would have made that big of a difference, but then he supposed his Slytherin-counterpart might have been quite the industrious bookworm.

"Really, Harry. You _definitely_ didn't know any of this stuff before," Hermione said, quite seriously.

Ron nodded his head rather seriously as well. He'd been quite wide-eyed and stunned through the whole quizzing session, and still looked entirely shell-shocked. Hermione, Harry was beginning to suspect, was a bit put out, but she was hiding it well. He rather suspected she felt like he'd _cheated_ his way into the information, but at the same time, she also agreed with the valid need for the new stores of knowledge, all extenuating circumstances considered.

Harry ended up taking the small hand-mirror and wrapping it up in his invisibility cloak and stuffing it into the bottom of his trunk for safe-keeping.

As the second week of school progressed, it became obvious that his knew stores of knowledge would be useful in more ways than just essay writing. His class performance had improved by leaps and bounds. He had yet to encounter a topic or task in any class that he didn't feel already familiar with. The best he could assume was that his counterpart had been big on reading and practicing ahead.

The wand movements to 'new' spells came fluidly from his wrist with well practiced ease. He _understood_ the way the magic was supposed to feel as it moved its way through his body and out from the tip of his wand. It was all just so simple and _right_. Harry had a hard time reminding himself that things hadn't always been this way. He hadn't always been a natural at magic. The only thing about magic that had ever really come 'naturally' to him before had been _flying_. But now, there were a lot of things that felt like that, and he had a difficult time believing that it hadn't been that way for ages.

Because it _really_ felt like it had.

The first half of the week had been much the same as that first attempt at essay writing the previous Saturday; in that, it just sort of _happened_ , and the knowledge seemed to have no origin that he could easily recall without considerable concentration. He had to really focus to come up with even the vaguest hint of where or when he might have learned the various bits of knowledge crammed in his head. However, as it drew closer to the one week mark of having encountered the Mirror of Paths, Harry's mind began to supply him with more and more supporting details whenever he found himself recalling a bit of information that didn't technically come from him.

But just like how he'd been unable to discern which bits of knowledge were new and which were legitimately his, he found himself constantly unaware that he was remembering things that he hadn't actually done.

After arguing with Hermione for five minutes about something he'd learned during a conversation he remembered having with Terry Boot in Charms the previous year, Harry was finally pulled up short by Hermione's frustrated exclamation, reminding Harry that he _didn't have charms with Terry Boot!_ It was quite a jolt, because he'd been _so sure_ that, that memory was _his_.

But it wasn't.

And that realization was horribly disconcerting.

The mirror had said that this wouldn't happen. Right? He distinctly remembered his Slytherin counterpart asking her if they'd be able to tell which memories were theirs and which technically came from the other. And she'd said... what had she said?

Harry frowned, trying to dredge up the memory more clearly. Knowing what he needed to do, Harry sat himself down on his bed in a comfortable position, closed his eyes and evened out his breathing. He felt himself enter into a mild trance and entered his mind palace. He came up short as he found a rather disorganized mess without any of the protections he remembered spending _ages_ structuring and – oh... but wait, that wasn't him, was it?

 _Oh hey! He knew Occlumency! He knew Occlumency! Great Merlin, this was fantastic!_

He had to put a halt to his excitement and hold himself back from the urge to start working his way through the frustratingly abysmal state of his mind palace. He had a goal in mind and he wanted to review that memory first. _Then_ he could start the obviously arduous task of sorting through the mess that was his own mind. Perhaps if he cleaned this place up a bit, it would make it easier for him to instantly know when he was accessing one of his own memories, or one of the assimilated ones.

He quickly focused his thoughts on the memory of the night he found himself in front of the Mirror of Paths and called it to the forefront of his mind. The memory took 'physical' form in the shape of a sphere reminiscent of the prophecy spheres from the Department of Mysteries. He grabbed it from where it hovered, mid-air, and held it out in front of his face for a moment before 'closing' his eyes and pressing the orb to his forehead.

The next moment, he found himself inside his own memory in much the same way he would view someone else's memory with a pensieve.

He watched it play out, cataloging any important details. Finally it got to the point where the fateful question was asked.

" _Necessary memories?" the Slytherin-Harry asked._

" _Some knowledge is not useful at all without context," Sakndenberg replied back simply._

 _Slytherin-Harry nodded. "I suppose that's true. But I won't mistake any of his memories for mine?"_

" _That should not be a problem."_

Harry literally hit himself in the face with his own palm. What a completely Slytherin way to dodge the question. She'd never actually answered the question at all. She hadn't said that they wouldn't mistake each other's memories, she had simply said it wouldn't be a problem if they did. Which was an entirely arbitrary observation.

He groaned out and let himself slip from the memory and back into the cluttered mess that was his utterly disorganized mind. Well, perhaps sorting through all of this junk and trying to separate out which memories were technically his would help him keep things straight. It was really the best he could hope for at this point.

– –


	2. Chapter 2

The second weekend in October was a greatly appreciated distraction from everything else that had filled Harry's mind. It was the first Hogsmeade trip, and Harry was exceedingly grateful for the opportunity to try and get his mind off of his many problems. Or at least, that's what he had hoped would happen.

The morning of the Hogsmeade trip dawned cold and stormy and Harry lay in bed flipping through his potions book rather aimlessly, waiting until it was time for breakfast. The potions book in question, which according to the writing scrawled on the first page, had belonged to a self described 'Half-blood Prince', had proven a treasure trove to fascinating material, far beyond the range of simple potions. The margins were filled with imaginative little jinxes and hexes which, judging by the crossings-out and revisions, the Prince had likely invented himself.

Interestingly enough, Harry found that he'd known a couple of those spells already - or rather, his Slytherin counterpart had known them. One called Muffliato, which filled the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing, so that lengthy conversations could be held without being overheard, was a spell that Harry was positive Draco had showed him at some point.

There was another one that would hoist the victim up by their ankle and dangle them in mid-air that Harry's Slytherin self had been familiar with. Now, from his Gryffindor memories, he recalled the memory in Snape's Pensieve of Harry's father casting that spell upon Snape, so the spells were obviously old enough that even Harry's parent's generation had been familiar with some of them.

If the Prince _had_ been the one to invent these spells, they had to have gotten out and about at some point, since other people obviously knew at least some of them. Perhaps the Prince had published a spell book at some point? Harry considered the value of searching for any other materials that made reference to some of the spells he found scribbled in the margins, to see if he could discover the identity of this mysterious student from years past.

However he'd discarded the idea as mostly unwarranted. Perhaps if he found himself exceedingly bored and desperate for a distraction, he'd reconsider it later. He was _definitely_ curious as to the identity of the previous owner of his potions textbook, but it wasn't exactly a high priority, given just how much other crazy stuff he had going on at the moment.

Harry did finally manage to drag Ron out of bed and the pair met up with Hermione in the common room before the three of them made their way to the Great Hall. About halfway through their breakfast, Ginny showed up and made her way over towards them..

"I'm supposed to give this to you," she remarked absently, handing over a rolled up scroll of parchment to Harry before bidding them farewell and making her way over to where Dean was sitting.

Harry quickly unrolled it to find the familiar thin, slanted writing, that belonged to Dumbledore. Harry felt his heart begin to race in his chest, but he wasn't nearly as excited about this new development as he had been the last time it had happened.

"It's Dumbledore's next lesson," Harry said, trying to conceal the tight nervous fear curling in his chest, since he knew he couldn't rationally explain it to either of his friends.

"Really?" Ron said, perking up with curious excitement. "When?"

"Monday evening," Harry said, scanning the rest of the short note. There really wasn't much to it. Certainly nothing to indicate what they might be covering in the meeting, but then again, Harry supposed there really was no way that something like that would be safe to be put in writing.

A short time later and the trio were making their way out of the castle and towards Hogsmeade. Filch was prodding everyone with a secrecy scope as they left, and Ron couldn't help but remark how ridiculous it was to check them as they _left_ the castle, when it made much more sense to check people as they _came back_. This only served to earn him a few extra jabs with the device before they were allowed to pass.

The trip down to the village was awful. The weather was miserably cold, and the exposed parts of Harry's face felt as if it were being attacked with daggers, the wind was so icy and biting. The trip which was already looking less than stellar, got even worse as they finally made it to the village just to discover that Zonko's was closed and boarded up. They hurried into Honeyduke's instead, and Harry was instantly greeted by the large round figure of Professor Slughorn.

The man spent a couple minutes genially trying to convince Harry to attend another one of his Slugclub dinners. Harry made his empty apologies, remarking how unfortunate it was that they keep coinciding with his Quidditch practices.

"Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all this hard work!" said Slughorn. "But a little recreation never hurt anybody. Now, how about Monday night, you can't possibly want to practice in this weather. . . ."

"I can't, Professor, I've got — er — an appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening," Harry replied, suddenly grateful for the meeting, even while another part of him dreaded it.

"Unlucky again!" cried Slughorn dramatically. "Ah, well . . . you can't evade me forever, Harry!"

And with a regal wave, he waddled out of the shop, taking as little notice of Ron as though he had been a display of Cockroach Clusters.

Ron managed to find this whole interaction as a suitable reminder for how he'd been repeatedly snubbed by the professor and his Slug Club, and spent the rest of their stint in the sweet-smelling shop in a rather sour mood. The trio finally opted to leave and make their way towards the Three Broomsticks.

It was on the way there that Harry came across a figure that managed to trigger a flash of insight that he hadn't registered before.

Mundungus Fletcher was standing out front of the pub holding a suitcase full of random trinkets, and talking with a man that Harry knew to be the man who ran Hogsmeade's _other_ pub, the Hog's Head. While Harry had been vaguely familiar with the man since the previous year when the DA had held it's initial meeting in his pub, it was only now, in this instance, where Harry suddenly realized he knew who this man was.

"Dumbledore's brother," Harry muttered with a mild air of shock, as he came to a halt in the middle of the road.

Ron, who was hunched over against the biting wind turned back and called out "What?"

Harry's jaw floundered for a moment as his mind churned over a confusing swirl of half-understood thoughts. Something about the prophecy and Snape, and this man… And something else, looming on the edge of his thoughts. Something that made his stomach churn, even though he couldn't quite grasp hold of whatever it was.

Harry's stupor was broken as Dumbledore's brother - _Aberforth Dumbledore,_ his mind supplied him - turned and quickly escaped into the sleeting cold, leaving behind Mundungus by himself. Dung spotted Harry and instantly staggered, dropping his case which burst open, releasing it's entire contents across the slush soaked ground.

"Oh, 'ello, 'Arry," said Mundungus Fletcher, with a most unconvincing stab at airiness. "Well, don't let me keep ya." He said as he began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his suitcase with every appearance of a man eager to be gone.

"Are you selling this stuff?" asked Harry, watching Mundungus grab an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

"Oh, well, gotta scrape a living," said Mundungus. "Gimme that!"

Ron had stooped down and picked up something silver. "Hang on," Ron said slowly. "This looks familiar —"

"Thank you!" said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Ron's hand and stuffing it back into the case.

A flash of recognition shot through Harry's mind, and this wasn't some half-remembered foggy memory from his counterpart's world. This was _his_ memory, and he knew that for a fact because it involved Sirius and his Slytherin doppleganger had never spent any time with Sirius as far as Harry could tell.

No, this knowledge was sharp and crisp, and anger _boiled_ to the surface as Harry registered, in a flash, just what was happening.

Harry rushed forward and pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. The man yelped and coughed as Harry held him fast with one hand, and pulled out his wand with the other.

"Harry!" squealed Hermione in startled shock.

"You took that from Sirius's house," Harry growled through clenched teeth. "That had the Black family crest on it."

"I — no — what — ?" spluttered Mundungus, who was slowly turning purple.

"You've nicked it from Grimmauld Place! You've been nicking Sirius' stuff!" he snarled. "What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?"

"I — no —"

"You dirty bastard!"

"Harry, you mustn't!" shrieked Hermione, as Mundungus started to turn blue.

There was a bang, and Harry felt his hands fly off Mundungus's throat. Gasping and spluttering, Mundungus made a quick attempt to grab his fallen case, but Harry was faster and yanked it out of his hands instead. Dung apparently gave it up as a lost cause because the next second — CRACK — he Disapparated.

Harry roared and swore at the top of his voice before spinning around to identify who had allowed the dirty sneak thief to escape.

"Tonks!" Harry exclaimed. "How could you? How could you let him get away!"

"Harry, calm down," Tonks said in a tired voice. She had appeared out of nowhere and her mousy hair was wet with sleet.

"He's nicked Sirius's stuff! Nicked it!" Harry exclaimed finally taking a moment to look down at the ratty case how in his hand, but Tonks didn't seem the least bit troubled by this piece of information and she quickly shuffled the group into the Three Broomsticks.

Hermione and Tonks both made a brief effort to get Harry to calm down before Tonks left and Hermione hurried to the bar to get three butterbeers in hopes of taking Harry's mind off of what had just happened.

Harry just sat and fumed for several minutes before opening the case and taking a quick look. A few more Black Family Crests decorating various objects were all that Harry needed to see to confirm his suspicions. Hermione insisted that Harry close the case and deal with it later, obviously in hopes of preventing Harry from getting even _more_ angry and upset over his godfather's death, and Mundungus' disgusting actions.

The group ended up staying just long enough to finish their butterbeers, but there didn't seem to be any reason to stay beyond that. The whole trip to Hogsmeade had been a bust and the group opted to head back to the school after that.

They left the pub following behind Katie Bell and her friend Leanne, the two groups a short distance apart as they each trudged on through the swirling sleet, making their ways down High Street and towards the long winding path that led back up to the school.

It was a little while before Harry became aware that the voices of Katie Bell and her friend, which were being carried back to him on the wind, had become shriller and louder. Harry squinted at their indistinct figures. The two girls were having an argument about something Katie was holding in her hand. "It's nothing to do with you, Leanne!" Harry heard Katie say.

The two seemed to tussle with a package for a moment before it appeared to rip and fall to the ground. At once, Katie rose into the air, gracefully, her arms oustretched, as though she was about to fly. Yet there was something wrong, something eerie. A horrible sinking feeling began to swirl in Harry's gut, and some part of him knew - _just knew -_ that what was happening was very, very bad.

Katie's hair whipped around her face with the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed and her face was quite empty of expression. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Leanne had all halted in their tracks, watching.

Then, six feet above the ground, Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open but whatever she could see, or whatever she was feeling, was clearly causing her terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed; Leanne started to scream too and seized Katie's ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground.

Ron and Hermione raced over and began grabbing at Katie's ankles as well, but Harry found himself rooted to the spot. His mind was racing over spells - diagnostics, preventatives, and counter curses. Many of them felt just beyond his mind's grasp, as the memories that gave them context were still lost in a fog, but he was able to pull some of them into focus just long enough to decide if they were worth trying.

Without even making the decision to do so, Harry's hand had reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. Katie fell to the ground a moment later, toppling Ron, Hermione, and Leanne as they attempted to catch her and move her on the ground more gently. But she was still thrashing about in painful spasms and screaming at the top of her lungs. Harry ran forward, pushing between Hermione and Ron and with wand aimed directly at Katie's chest he began making a series of intricate motions and muttering spells under his breath.

"What —" Hermione sputtered in surprise as she moved to the side, giving Harry more room to work.

A moment later Katie's whole body glowed as Harry began casting some unspoken spell over her. Her eyes were still wide and unseeing, and she was still screaming horribly, but at least she'd stopped convulsing around on the ground.

"Someone go get help!" Harry shouted, a mild hint of exasperation in his voice, but his eyes remained determined and entirely focused on Katie.

It was Ron who seemed to jerk into awareness enough to scramble to his feet and race up the path towards the school.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione finally managed to get out as she watched him work.

"Ghouthall's spreading impediment counter-curse," Harry muttered before a frustrated growl escaped his lips. "No… not good enough. Merlin, what the hell is this curse? Maybe… maybe Strausberg's _Prohibre_ …"

Harry moved his wand in another intricate movement and a gentle blue light began to draw from the tip like a mist, enveloping the the air directly over Katie's body. Her screams finally stopped, but she still looked entirely unaware of them with blank unseeing eyes, and her chest rose and fell in rapid succession as she sucked in fast, heaving, and desperate breaths.

Harry's wand stopped suddenly as a dawning light seemed to enter his eyes. "It's an _Ardebit_ type curse!" He stopped and turned to look around. He pointed at the torn brown paper package on the ground, half-buried in snow and slush. "I need that. _But don't touch it!_ Warp it in your scarf or something."

Hermione rushed over to it, unwinding the scarf from her neck and carefully wrapping it around the package and picking it up cautiously.

"Set it down there," Harry said, indicating the sodden ground beside him, and he made a few more wand movements over Katie's body.

Hermione placed it down, looking worriedly between Harry, Katie, and Leanne, who was still sniffling and whimpering in terrified horror.

Harry turned his focus on the package, nudging the scarf and brown paper out of the way with the tip of his wand and revealing a jeweled necklace within. His eyes widened as he recognized it, but he couldn't worry about that right now. He began casting a particularly specific diagnostic spell over the necklace, trying to identify a few key details to the magic that had attacked Katie. Finally he stopped, looking at the necklace in horror.

"Bloody hell. This is too much for me. This is really serious," he muttered.

Leanne let out a strangled sob followed by a moaning wail of despair. Harry grimaced at her and was about to try and figure out something less dismal to say in hopes of calming her down, but was gratefully distracted by the sight of a large hulking figure appearing from around the bend.

It was Hagrid with Ron racing up from behind him.

"Get back!" shouted Hagrid. "Lemme see her!"

"Something's happened to her!" sobbed Leanne. "Harry was helping, but she's still like this! I don't know what —"

"It's a nasty curse, Hagrid," Harry pushed in. "Like, _really_ nasty. She needs a professional curse breaker, and _fast_."

Hagrid stared at Katie for a second, then without a word, bent down, scooped her into his arms, and ran off toward the castle with her.

Hermione hurried over to Katie's wailing friend and put an arm around her.

"It's Leanne, isn't it?"

The girl nodded.

"Did it just happen all of a sudden, or — ?"

"It was when the package tore," she sobbed, nodding her head towards the package that now lay in the snow beside where Harry was still kneeling.

Harry pushed himself up to his feet, brushing the wet snow from his pants before bending over and carefully wrapping the necklace back up in Hermione's scarf.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, eyeing the package warily.

"We need to get this up to the castle," Harry said, taking another moment to examine it more closely.

"I've seen that before," Hermione said, thoughtfully, frowning at the bundle in Harry's arms.

"You have?" Ron said, surprised.

"Yes, it was at Borgin and Burkes," Harry confirmed with a sigh, feeling a sinking suspicion that Draco was somehow behind this - not that he was going to mention that to Ron or Hermione. It's not like they'd believe him anyway. He took a moment to secure the necklace better inside the package and scarf before reaching down with his free hand to grab Mundungus' case from where he had dropped it in the snow earlier.

"Where did Katie get this?" Hermione asked Leanne.

"Well, that's why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it. . . . Oh no, oh no, I bet she'd been Imperiused and I didn't realize!"

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently.

"She didn't say who'd given it to her, Leanne?"

"No . . . she wouldn't tell me . . . and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn't listen and . . . and then I tried to grab it from her . . . and — and —" Leanne let out a wail of despair.

"We really do need to get this up to the school," Harry insisted, looking uncomfortably from the sobbing girl to Hermione. "It'll help if they know what kind of curse they're dealing with, and that's easiest learned from examining this thing."

Hermione nodded. "You're right." She helped Leanne steady her footing and the four began to trudge through the snow and sleet up the path following in Hagrid's oversized footprints.

They'd just reached the grounds when Ron called out warningly, "McGonagall!"

Harry looked ahead and sure enough, Professor McGonagall was hurrying down the stone steps through the swirling sleet, to meet them.

"Hagrid says you four saw what happened to Katie Bell — upstairs to my office at once, please! What's that you're holding, Potter?"

"It's the thing that cursed Katie," said Harry.

"Good lord," said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Harry. "No, no, Filch, they're with me!" she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. "Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!"

"It's some sort of _Ardebit_ curse," Harry called out after Filch. "One of the _maior_ types, but I couldn't work out which. Tell Snape!"

Filch faltered and looked questioningly at McGonagall who looked a bit bewildered but she nodded her head. "Tell him."

"Yes, Ma'am," Filch said with a dip of his head before he hurried off.

Harry and the others followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames, and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to face Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the still sobbing Leanne.

"Well?" she said sharply. "What happened?"

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd, and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome, there was no getting another word out of her.

"All right," said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, "go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock."

When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"What happened when Katie touched the necklace?"

"She rose up into the air and just hung there for a minute," Hermione answered quickly.

"But then she started screaming like a banshee," Ron added, looking a bit green. "It was awful."

"After she fell to the ground Harry —" Hermione hesitated here for a moment, "Harry told Ron to go get help."

McGonagall's gaze centered on Harry now. "You mentioned you believed it was an Ardebit curse? How exactly do you know that?"

"I used a couple diagnostic charms on Katie to try and work out if there was anything I could do to help her. At first I thought that maybe it was some sort of _parvus_ curse - what with how she went floating up in the air, but even after she fell to the ground, she still kept thrashing about in pain and screaming. A _parvus_ curse would have stopped once she dropped. I used one of Madam Morasis's identification charms and it turned up in the orange-ish red range, so I knew it had to either be an _ardebit_ or a _holocaustum_ type. I cast a general counter-curse for _holocaustum_ types, since they're a lot easier to deal with, and it stopped her seizures, but it only muted the effects, and it was obvious she was still in a lot of pain, what with the screaming, so it had to be an _ardebit_."

McGonagall looked legitimately surprised. "Where did you lean how to do all _that_? I had no idea you had any experience with counter curses!"

"Er… I've um… been studying," Harry muttered, ducking his head.

"Well, it certainly is true that your class performance has shown a significant improvement this term…" McGonagall said thoughtfully, eyeing Harry with a look that was both surprised and impressed. "Is there anything else you can think of I should know?"

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking up. "I've seen that necklace before. It was for sale in Borgin and Burkes and there was a sign under it that said it was cursed."

McGonagall raised a pointed eyebrow in Hermione's direction. "And what, exactly, were you doing in a place like Borgin and Burkes?"

Hermione flushed and ducked her head.

"We were following Malfoy. He was the one who went in there," Ron said quickly in defense of Hermione.

McGonagall looked mildly exasperated and shook her head. "What possessed you to _follow_ Mr. Malfoy down Knockturn Alley?"

Ron glanced towards Harry but didn't say anything. McGonagall turned her expectant eyes upon Harry now and folded her arms impatiently.

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "I thought he was being suspicious," he muttered under his breath, not making eye contact.

McGonagall made an exasperated sound and shook her head. "For future reference, I would prefer if you _did not_ repeat such an action. Thank you all for your information. Now, I need to go up to the hospital wing to check on Katie Bell. Good day to you all."

She held open her office door, giving them no choice but to file past her, though Harry was perfectly happy to put some distance between him and the events of that afternoon. Unfortunately, his friends were not about to let that happen. As soon as they'd put a good amount of distance between them and McGonagall's office, they started up discussing what had happened.

"So who do you reckon Katie was supposed to give the necklace to?" asked Ron, as they climbed the stairs to the common room.

"Goodness only knows," said Hermione. "But whoever it was has had a narrow escape. No one could have opened that package without touching the necklace."

"Katie was lucky Harry was there, though," Ron said enthusiastically. "Merlin Harry, that counter-curse stuff was brilliant. It's about time that mirror stuff actually paid off in something other than class work and essays."

"That really was something," Hermione agreed. "I didn't realize that you had gotten information like that out of the whole thing. Where did the, uhm… other… where did he learn about counter-curses like that? I've done some reading up on the subject, but I wasn't familiar with any of the spells you were using."

Harry's steps slowed as he tried to dredge up any contextual memories that would actually answer her question, but every time he felt like he was close to something, it would slip between his fingers like smoke.

Part of him had the sinking suspicion that he didn't actually want to know the answer to the question, and that scared him. He had a feeling that if he _really_ wanted to know when and how he'd learned about curses, he could dredge it up. But he was afraid to. Part of him knew he couldn't remain ignorant of it for too much longer.

"Honestly I don't know where I - er… where _he_ learned it. I haven't stumbled across any contextual memories to go along with it. It's just the curses and counter curses. Not how or when I learned them."

"So you know how to cast curses like that too?" Ron asked, his voice a mix between awe and horror.

"Well not like _that_ ," Harry said defensively. "That was horrible. But I mean… you've _got_ to understand the curses if you're gonna understand how to counter them. They kind of go hand in hand. The more you know about curses and how they work, the better you get at also countering and disabling them."

"Do you think that Katie will be alright?" Hermione asked then, looking worried.

Harry sighed and shrugged. "I sure hope so… I mean, I doubt that Madam Pomfrey would have much luck with something of that level, but Snape's another story. And hopefully once they have her stabilized enough, they can transfer her to St. Mungo's…"

" _Snape?_ " Ron said with a disgusted grimace.

"The man knows his curses," Harry drawled cynically.

"You think it's serious enough that they'd have to move her to St. Mungo's?" Hermione asked, choosing to ignore their tangent.

Harry nodded. "Yes. I do. That curse was serious business. It was intended to kill the recipient - of that I'm sure."

"Merlin…" Hermione whispered in horror.

—


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The following day, Katie _was_ moved to St. Mungo's, and by that time, the whole school had become aware of the fact that she had been cursed - though it appeared that only Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Leanne were aware that Katie herself had not been the intended target.

After they'd gotten up to the common room Harry had discarded Mundungus' case behind his trunk, stared at it and fumed for a moment before growling internally and abandoning it there. It was the last thing Harry wanted to deal with at the time, and as Sunday had arrived, this fact had not changed, so it continued to remain untouched, even though Harry could have used a distraction.

Harry felt like he was dragging his feet all through Sunday, partially dreading Monday evening, and yet also anxiously anticipating it.

Hermione managed to make Harry's nerves even worse by suggesting that this meeting would be the perfect opportunity for Harry to come clean with Dumbledore about what had happened to Harry and the Mirror. Harry had physically recoiled from the very notion of doing anything of the sort. His aversion to the idea had only grown in strength over the last month, to the point where he was now absolutely sure - though he couldn't say _why_ \- that he should do everything in his power to make sure Dumbledore never found out abut what had happened.

Finally Monday, and then Monday evening, had arrived and Harry presented himself outside Dumbledore's office at eight o'clock, knocked, and was told to enter. There sat Dumbledore looking unusually tired; his hand was as black and burned as ever.

Harry was about to sit down when his eyes locked on that black withered hand and a surge shot through him, locking him motionless.

Dumbledore's hand… he was still wearing that ring. Harry had seen it before of course, but the last time Harry had laid eyes on it, had been before the Mirror, and Harry hadn't had any cause to think of it since then. But he was looking at it now, and unlike before, _now_ he knew what that ring was.

He knew….

What…

He knew what it was.

Harry felt his knees go weak and he had to catch himself on the arm rest of the chair and the edge of Dumbledore's desk.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked worriedly, but the voice was muffled in Harry's ears. The whole world felt hallow and small at the moment, and Harry felt suddenly claustrophobic.

That ring…

 _Horcrux…_

The word slithered through Harry's mind, and another jolt of horror shot through him as Harry shakily guided himself into the chair, so as to not fall to the floor instead.

The stone in the ring was cracked.

 _He destroyed the horcrux._

His hand, withered and blackened… and the ring upon his finger…

 _It cursed him. That's Tom's curse…_

Then, like some sort of tidal wave crashing over him, nearly drowning him with it's weight…

 _Dumbledore is going to die._

 _Horcrux…_

"Harry!" Dumbledore's voice suddenly broke through the wall shock surrounding Harry and he blinked several times, finding that Dumbledore was now kneeling directly in front of him, and his crooked twice-broken nose was mere inches from Harry's own. "Harry, what is it?"

Memories were flooding in - the fog was lifting and all of those little hidden connections that had been leaving things so ambiguous up until now were coming into light and falling into place.

Harry felt sick. He wanted to run; he wanted to hide. He wanted to get the fuck away from this man and… and… what? He didn't even know…

 _Oh my god…_

Harry's hand shook and raised unconsciously and against his own better judgement, brushing his finger tips gingerly across his forehead and over the slightly raised skin of his scar.

"Is your scar hurting you, Harry?" Dumbledore's voice managed to break through again, and some part of Harry began to scream at himself to snap out of it.

 _You can't have a breakdown in front of him! Not now! Show no weakness. Get your shit together Potter! WAKE UP!_

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, jerking his hand down and trying to push himself up straighter in his chair.

"I'm okay," Harry said forcefully and not all that convincingly.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked gently, looking worried.

Part of Harry wanted to let out a sharp cynical laugh at that. _Worried_ … _Right…_

"I… I don't know," Harry said quickly, his voice still shaky, despite his best efforts. "I just got really dizzy… my scar burned, but… nothing else," he quickly lied.

Dumbledore frowned and hummed thoughtfully. "Do you need anything Harry? If you're not feeling up to it, we can arrange to meet again at another time."

Part of Harry was thrilled with the idea of getting the hell out of this office as soon as possible, but another part of Harry realized that he could be letting a valuable opportunity slip by, by bailing now. There was no telling what the hell Dumbledore was going to be showing him this 'lesson'…

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "No, I'm fine, really. I just needed a moment to clear my head. _I'm fine_."

Dumbledore eyed Harry cautiously for a minute and there was a moment where Harry was afraid the man was going to try and use legilimency on him, but fortunately he didn't. Dumbledore stood up and gave Harry a small nod before moving back to the other side of his desk and sitting in his chair.

"If you are sure," Dumbledore asked as much as said.

"I'm sure," Harry confirmed, using every bit of strength and self control to squash the shakes that wanted to wrack their way through his whole body.

"As I understand it, you have had a busy time while I have been away," Dumbledore said. "I believe you witnessed Katie's accident."

"Yes, sir," Harry said with a weak nod of his head. "How is she?"

"Still very unwell, although she was relatively lucky. She appears to have brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin: There was a tiny hole in her glove. Had she put it on, had she even held it in her ungloved hand, she would have died, perhaps instantly. Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse — as I understand it, _you_ also contributed to this." Dumbledore's eyebrows raised into his forehead in an unspoken question.

"Er… I suppose so," Harry said, shrugging weakly.

"Professor Snape said that the _Prohibre_ you cast upon Ms. Bell could very well have saved her life. It slowed the spread of the curse enough that she was in considerably better condition upon her arrival at the school than she would have been otherwise."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise at the thought that Snape could have possibly complimented anything Harry was responsible for.

Harry's eyes slipped back down to Dumbledore's hand and words somehow managed to tumble out of his mouth before his better judgement could prevent them.

"Did Snape help with slowing the spread of your curse, too?" Harry regretted the question the second it had finished leaving his lips.

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "My curse?" he responded innocently.

"Your hand," Harry muttered, resigned to following this through now that he'd already opened the door. Besides, he was curious if Dumbledore would actually be honest with him at all.

" _Professor_ Snape did help me, yes," Dumbledore confirmed with a slow nod of his head, eyeing Harry curiously.

"But it's only slowed," Harry stated, suddenly meeting Dumbledore's eyes, silently daring him lie to him or dodge the question again.

Dumbledore held Harry's gaze for several long beats, looking thoughtful. "I was unaware you had developed an interest in curse breaking."

A voice deep inside Harry scoffed and he internally rolled his eyes at Dumbledore's dodge of Harry's unspoken question, but kept his reaction to himself.

"I've been trying to study up on a lot of different subjects lately," Harry said with a shrug, looking down at his lap. "Whatever I can think of that might be useful… you know, given that there's all sorts of people out there trying to kill me."

"Ah…" Dumbledore replied with a simple, seemingly understanding tone.

Harry caught himself scowling at his now clenched fists and had to force himself to smooth his features before looking back up.

"I suppose that we've gotten off to a rocky start, this evening. But now if you are feeling up to it, I think it's time that we turn our focus towards our lesson."

Harry sighed and nodded his head. He watched as Dumbledore poured the a collection of silvery memories into the Pensieve that sat on the desk before him, and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands.

"You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome Muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his witch wife, Merope, and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort."

"How do you know she was in London, sir?"

"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," said Dumbledore, "who, by an odd coincidence, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace that cursed poor Ms. Bell."

He swilled the contents of the Pensieve as Harry had seen him swill them before, much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass rose a little old man revolving slowly in the Pensieve, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.

"Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances. It was brought in by a young witch just before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed the gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along . . . Going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, 'Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favorite teapot,' but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't seem to have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"

Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra-vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended back into the swirling mass of memory from whence he had come.

A knot of ice seemed to have taken root deep in Harry's chest.

 _The locket_.

Dumbledore hadn't sought out this memory for evidence of where Merope had been at the time - he'd sought it because of it's subject matter. The locket. He'd been asking Burke about _that locket_.

 _He knows…_

"He only gave her ten Galleons?" said Harry, deciding instead of voice his indignation over this detail, to try and pull himself away from his other thoughts.

"Caractacus Burke was not famed for his generosity," said Dumbledore. "So we know that, near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession. The locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."

 _The ring… the locket… He knows._

 _He knows_.

"Now Harry, if you would stand," Dumbledore said as he himself stood up behind his desk and made his way to the front.

Harry blinked at him owlishly for a moment, standing up awkwardly. "Where are we going?"

"This time," said Dumbledore, "we are going to enter _my_ memory. I think you will find it both rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. After you, Harry . . ."

Harry bent over the Pensieve; his face broke the cool surface of the memory and then he was falling through darkness again. . . . Seconds later, his feet hit firm ground; he opened his eyes and found that he and Dumbledore were standing in a bustling, old-fashioned London street."

Harry followed Dumbledore as he led the pair of them into an aging old orphanage and through the process of speaking with the matron about one of their charges. A young man by the name of Tom Riddle.

 _Satisfyingly accurate._ Harry scoffed internally as he silently observed the fringe edges of the memory, spotting several telltale signs of modification.

It was a tight job. Dumbledore was good. But Harry had been trained by the best. He knew what to look for.

 _Trained by the best…_

 _Oh god…_

Harry watched as Dumbledore went through the motions of speaking with Mrs. Cole and milking her for information about the young Tom Riddle. Everything that came from her mouth lead one to the conclusion that this child was _wrong_ in some way. He was _odd_ , and odd things happened around him. That the other children were _afraid_ of him.

The persistence of the fringe inconsistencies magnified when Mrs. Cole spoke about an incidence with Billy's Stubb's rabbit, and about Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop's trip to a sea side cave with Tom. Harry couldn't know what had been modified, but there was no question that those sections, especially, were not entirely real.

Every alteration that Harry spotted seemed to focus on making Tom look _bad_.

 _He wants me to believe that Tom was a lost cause from the very start._ Harry realized. _He wants me to think he's always been a monster. That he never had any decency or humanity. He wants me to believe that he's been Voldemort from the very start… That he's always been insane and cruel._

Finally the memory progressed onto the part where they actually met the young Tom Riddle himself.

Harry found himself transfixed with this young version of the man who had…

He quickly clamped down on that thought. He couldn't afford to go there - not yet. Not while he was with Dumbledore.

The memory continued on, and subtle signs persisted throughout, that the memory was not entirely unaltered.

"I think that will do," said the white-haired Dumbledore standing at Harry's side in the memory world some time later after his auburn-haired counterpart bid the young Tom Riddle goodbye. Seconds after that, they were soaring weightlessly through darkness once more, before landing squarely in the present-day office.

Dumbledore had Harry sit and the pair discussed what they had seen for a brief time. In reality, _Dumbledore_ discussed it, and Harry sat and tried to react in whatever ways he thought Dumbledore might expect him to.

"Time is making fools of us again," said Dumbledore, indicating the dark sky beyond the windows. "But before we part, I want to draw your attention to certain features of the scene we have just witnessed, for they have a great bearing on the matters we shall be discussing in future meetings.

"Firstly, I hope you noticed Riddle's reaction when I mentioned that another shared his first name, 'Tom'?"

Harry nodded numbly.

"There he showed his contempt for anything that tied him to other people, anything that made him ordinary. Even then, he wished to be different, separate, _notorious_. He shed his name, as you know, within a few short years of that conversation and created the mask of 'Lord Voldemort' behind which he has been hidden for so long."

Harry wanted to internally scoff. Dumbledore thought he knew Tom so well. _How little he knew…_

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless? He did not want help or companionship on his trip to Diagon Alley. He preferred to operate alone. The adult Voldemort is the same. You will hear many of his Death Eaters claiming that they are in his confidence, that they alone are close to him, even understand him. They are deluded. Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe that he has ever wanted one.

It took a great deal of Harry's self control to suppress the scowl that wanted to work its way across his face.

"And lastly — I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry — the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later."

 _He definitely knows._

"And now, it really is time for bed."

Harry finally escaped Dumbledore's office and stumbled his way down the spiral staircase on wobbly legs. The adrenaline was wearing off, but Harry still felt like he was partially in a state of shock.

There were too many thoughts swirling through his mind. To many conflicting ideas. Two parts of himself at war over what he had come to realize, and he still hadn't yet been able to process it all enough to understand all the repercussions of what he now knew.

Harry had made his way a short distance down the hall before coming to a halt and leaning, face-first, against a wall, letting his forehead rest against the cold stone wall and trying to block out the rest of the world for a minute.

 _Oh god, what do I do now?_

He felt lost. He desperately wished he had someone to talk to, but was rather horrified with himself when the first person his mind supplied him with as a person to go to for help, was bloody Voldemort.

He let out a humorless laugh before turning around so his back was pressed against the wall and let himself slide down until he was sitting on the floor. He buried his face in his hands and tried to steady his breathing.

Part of him legitimately felt like crying, which he mentally berated himself for, refusing to let himself succumb to such a sign of weakness.

But he felt so alone and lost. There was no one he could go to. He couldn't possibly talk to Ron or Hermione about what he had just unlocked in his head. They couldn't know. They'd be horrified…

Who..? Who could he go to?

Harry let his head fall back and hit the wall as he looked up to the ceiling of the hallway and stared at nothing.

"Merlin, I wish Draco was here," he whispered to himself.

Het let his eyes fall closed and squinted hard against the wet sting threatening to break him. After a moment he forced out a rough breath, pushed himself to his feet and began to walk with a quickened pace back towards Gryffindor Tower.

He gave the password to the Fat Lady's portrait and rushed through the common room, avoiding anyone's gaze and tossing some throwaway excuse to Ron when he tried to call him over to the chest board he was perched in front of.

Harry went straight up the stairs and directly to his dorm where he quickly grabbed his rucksack and dug the Marauder's map out of it. He flattened it out on his bed, spoke the passphrase and began scanning it's surface for any sign of Draco. He wasn't even sure what he was doing, or what he intended to do if he found Draco… Harry realized he was somewhat functioning on auto pilot and desperation.

Harry was about to give it up as a lost cause when Draco's name suddenly popped into existence in the seventh floor corridor.

Harry's eyes widened with sudden understanding.

 _That's where the Room of Requirement is…_

Draco had been in the Room of Requirement! That was why he'd been missing from the map so many times recently when Harry had checked.

Without giving himself time to second-guess whatever it was he was about to do, Harry flipped open his trunk, reached in and grabbed his wadded up invisibility cloak and stuffed it into his rucksack before slinging it over his shoulder and stuffing the Marauder's Map into his pocket.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry quickly jogged down the stairs, straight through the common room, and right back out through the portrait hole before anyone had the chance to ask him where he was going.

He rushed through the corridor towards the stretch of hallway where the Room of Requirement was located and pulled out the map to check for Draco's name. It was still standing out front of the Room of Requirement along with the name Vincent Crabbe, but as Harry neared their location, they began to move, so Harry hastened his pace.

He came upon them a moment later as he rounded a bend. What he found there was mildly confusing at first as he saw Malfoy as expected, but instead of Vincent he saw what looked like a female first-year. Harry blinked at the girl for a moment before looking back at the map to confirm what he'd seen earlier.

Vincent Crabbe.

Harry glanced back at the girl, who was staring at Harry with wide-open eyes and parted lips. Draco was gaping at him as well, but that quickly vanished to be replaced with a haughty scowl.

 _Polyjuice, probably,_ Harry's mind supplied him as he looked at 'Crabbe'. 'She' was holding a set of metal scales, and Harry imagined they'd make quite a racket it dropped.

 _Whatever Draco is doing in the Room, he must be having Vince stand watch outside…_

Harry shook his head, not honestly caring what they were up to. He stuffed the map into his pocket and began to jog down the stretch of hallway that still separated him and Draco.

Draco, predictably, drew his wand defensively. "What do _you_ want, Potter?" he spat.

Harry slowed and stopped only a few feet from Draco and kept his focus trained on the blond, ignoring the 'girl' beside him.

"I need to talk to you," Harry said, somewhat breathlessly, as he _had_ run the whole way there.

" _Talk?_ " Draco exclaimed somewhat incredulously.

"Yes… _please_ ," Harry said, and the desperation in his voice wasn't even remotely concealed.

"Fuck off, Potter. I don't owe you anything, least of all _my time,"_ Draco drawled and made to start walking but Harry quickly side-stepped into his path.

"Wait. You're right. You don't owe me anything. But I owe you. It's _my fault_ that your father is in Azkaban right now. At least partially, anyway. I mean, he did what he had to do, and I did what I had to do, and he got the raw end of the deal and now he's stuck in prison, and it's partially because of me. —Because of what I did that night, which is honestly something I regret more than I could possibly convey right now." Harry trailed off weakly and squeezed his eyes shut against the swell of emotions that once again threatened to crash over him.

Draco's eyes were wide but his brow was furrowed with disbelief and surprise. "So if you _owe me_ , what exactly do you think you can do to make up for it?" Draco asked acerbically, obviously expecting that Harry would have nothing to offer up of any value.

"Anything," Harry said softly, opening his eyes once again and staring into Draco's face.

Draco seemed confused by what he saw there, but his expression quickly clouded over with suspicion and doubt. "Anything?" he scoffed.

"If you'll just… if you'll _listen_ to what I need to say, I'll give you whatever you want."

Draco guffawed. "Yeah, right Potter. As if you could give me something I _want_."

"Name anything, and I'll try."

Draco scrutinized Harry for a silent moment before the corner of his mouth turned up. "Okay then Potter. Tell me the Prophecy. The one that cost me _my father_."

"Fine," Harry said instantly with a nod of his head.

Draco seemed to falter, obviously not having expected that.

"Fine? I mean it Potter."

"And I mean it too. I'll tell you want it says and you can take that to Voldemort or do whatever you want with it. It's the least I owe you, and maybe it could help your family get back into His graces. Maybe it'll even get him to let you off the hook for whatever impossible mission he's sent you on."

Draco's eyes widened and a flash of shock and fear seared through them before it was masked over with suspicion.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco spat.

Harry heaved a tired sigh and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Fine, whatever. Just… _Please_ let me talk. I _need_ to talk to someone, and you're the only person I can even think of to do it with… your the only person that I _want_ to tell… I need you. _Please_."

Draco looked both bewildered and conflicted as he stared Harry down for another long pause. Finally he narrowed his eyes suspiciously and spoke. "Okay, _talk_."

"Not here," Harry said, shaking his head. "Alone."

Draco scoffed loudly. "Do you think I'm _stupid?"_

" _No,_ I don't, I just can't do it somewhere so insecure, and you're the only person I want to know this stuff right now. No one else. I swear I'm not up to something, and I'm not trying to trick you."

Draco scrutinized him. "How long will this take?" he asked.

Harry made a rather helpless shrugging gesture. "Honestly, I have no idea. It might be a while. There's… there's kind of a lot to cover."

Once again curiosity seemed to flash through Draco's eyes and Harry could tell he was honestly considering it. "It's almost curfew," Malfoy said pointedly.

"Then we might be getting in a bit late," Harry huffed.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to set me up for a detention?" he snapped accusingly.

"Hey, _I'd_ be getting detention too, if we were caught out after curfew! Look, if we end up being really late, I promise I'll help you get back to the dungeons without getting caught by Filch or anyone else."

Draco scoffed. "Oh really? And you can make a guarantee like that, can you?"

"I can. I've got an invisibility cloak. We can hide under it together till you get to the dungeons, then I'll take it up to Gryffindor Tower."

Draco's eyes widened to the size of galleons and his lips silently mouthed the word 'invisibility cloak'.

" _Please_ … I'll try not to take too long. I just need… I _need_ to talk to someone."

"And that someone has to be _me?_ " Draco said incredulously.

"Yes," Harry said emphatically.

Draco eyed him a bit longer before heaving out an annoyed sigh and nodding. "Fine."

Harry let out a huge sigh of relief and felt the grateful smile spread across his face. His chest felt lighter in that moment than it had in ages.

Draco turned to look at the 'girl' and jerked his head down the hall. "You go on ahead."

"You sure?" the girl-Crabbe asked.

"Yes," Draco said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "So where do you want to do this?" he asked, turning back to Harry.

"Uh - well, we're here, so lets just use the Room of Requirement. It guarantees privacy."

Draco squawked. "It guarantees that if you curse me or whatever you could leave me in that room and no one would ever be able to get back in unless you told them exactly what room to summon!"

Harry rolled his eyes this time. "Then _you_ summon the room! Just… just someplace simple and secure where we can talk without the risk of anyone eavesdropping. Then you can tell Crabbe what to summon to guarantee that he can come back and find you later if you mysteriously vanish and don't come back."

Draco did a double-take, glancing at the 'girl' and back to Harry. "How'd —"

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter, but I can tell you later if you really care that badly. Just summon the room."

Draco glared at him through narrowed eyes for another annoyingly long beat before huffing out a rough breath and walking over to the stretch of wall and going back and forth three times before a door appeared. He looked back at the polyjuiced Crabbe and called out. "A private, secure room, where we can talk. That's all."

Crabbe nodded and finally began to make 'his' way down the hall towards the grand staircase.

Draco pulled the door open and make a mockingly sweeping gesture inside. Harry quickly rushed past him and into the room, followed a moment later by Draco who closed the door behind them. Draco didn't go much further than that, though, opting instead to stand just inside the door of the plain empty room with his arms crossed over his chest impatiently.

Harry, in contrast, began pacing erratically back and forth in the small room, running a nervous hand through his hair several times and pulling in a deep breath. Draco cocked a single unamused brow and glared at Harry contemptuously.

Finally Harry came to a stop and looked somewhat sideways towards Draco, feeling somewhat incapable of making eye contact, with as worked up as he felt.

"It's so weird, being here with you…" Harry said softly, letting out a rather pitiful sounding laugh.

"You _said_ this was _important_ ," Draco drawled in annoyance.

"And it is, I promise" Harry said, nodding his head, but still looking anywhere but at Draco. "I've had a pretty insane month… er… well, I imagine you've definitely had more than your fair share of crap too, so I'm not looking for sympathy or anything like that."

Draco's eyes narrowed even further and the annoyance only seemed to be growing. " _Potter_ ," he said warningly.

"Right, right," Harry said, huffing out a breath and running another nervous hand through his hair. "Okay… right. So have you ever heard of the multiple universes theory?"

"The _what_?" Draco said curling his lip somewhat and looking at Harry incredulously.

"Well, the idea is that for every moment where our destinies could take different paths, each of the possibilities spawns a parallel universe. Like, there was a moment where you made the final decision to go to Hogwarts, instead of Durmstrang, but at that moment another parallel reality spawned where you decided to go to Durmstrang instead. But in this context, the best example is house sorting. So at the moment when each of us were sorted, four different universes split into existence. One for each of the four houses that we _could_ have been sorted into."

"You're suggesting that there's a reality out there where I was sorted into _Hufflepuff?_ " Draco guffawed loudly, looking absolutely incredulous. "What insanity are you going on about, Potter? What does this have to do with anything?"

Harry let out another weak laugh that sounded much more pathetic than amused, before heaving another sigh. "I'm talking about the insanity that turned my entire world upside down… Have you by any chance ever heard about the Hogwarts Headmistress Eoessa Sakndenberg?"

Draco twisted up his face slightly. "I've heard the name."

"She was the first Headmaster to make a stink about the house system at Hogwarts. She thought that the house you were sorted into had too great an effect on how the students life developed or whatever. To demonstrate just how big of an effect house sorting had on people, she created this enchanted mirror. It has the power to link two versions of yourself from different houses, to show you just how different a person you became, just because of the seemingly arbitrary choice of a magical hat at age eleven. With this mirror you could see the version of you that got sorted into a different house, but since looking in a mirror and seeing a version of you in different colored robes doesn't really tell you anything about that person, the mirror goes much further. It makes it so you can share all of your knowledge and experiences between two of these parallel worlds."

"I read about the mirror near the start of term, and the impression I got was that if I found it, I would be able to gain all of the knowledge that a version of me that was, say - sorted into Ravenclaw instead - had learned over the last five years. Through the mirror, I could get a copy of all of that knowledge. At the time I was kind of in panic mode over learning about the prophecy. I realized that I was utterly unprepared for any of this craziness that's been dropped on me, so I was desperate for any help I could get, and this mirror sounded perfect."

Draco's face which had been mostly impassive and skeptical, lit up with renewed interest at the mention of the prophecy.

"I managed to stumble across the opportunity to find out where the mirror was and jumped on it. I found it - it's hidden here in the school, but I can't seem to find it again, so it seems like there's some charms in place to stop me from getting to it again… anyway, I found it and when I stood in front of it, I heard Headmistress Sakndenberg's voice start to explain things. I had thought that I might get to pick which house my counterpart was from, but that wasn't the case - instead it connected me to the parallel universe that was most likely to have happened, if I hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor. And that was Slytherin."

Draco coughed out an incredulous laugh. "You? _In Slytherin?_ Don't make me laugh, Potter."

"No joke. That really is where the hat wanted to put me," Harry said tired sigh. "I begged the hat to put me anywhere else. Just, _not Slytherin_. I repeated that over and over in my head until the Hat agreed to put me in Gryffindor instead."

Draco scoffed out ' _P'sha_ ' sounding noise, and sneered at Harry as if he held even less respect for him now than he had before. "You _begged_ the hat to put you in Gryffindor," he said flatly.

"No, I begged it to _not_ put me in Slytherin. I honestly didn't care where I went other than that. I mean, I didn't really _know_ anything about the houses to be perfectly honest. All I knew was that I'd been told on the train and back when Hagrid delivered my letter, that Slytherin was a house full of Dark Wizards, and I was terrified of being stuck with the same sort of label."

Draco rolled his eyes dramatically.

"But I _was_ supposed to be in Slytherin. There's a very specific reason why, actually, but that's besides the point right now. So when I stood in front of the mirror, looking back at me was another version of me, but in green and silver robes and a snooty attitude that reminded me a lot of _you_ , actually…"

Draco arched one brow, but remained otherwise unimpressed.

"So the voice of Sakndenberg told us that we both had to agree to the memory copy - it wouldn't just be me getting a copy of his knowledge, it went both ways. And what's more, it wasn't just knowledge, it was memories and experiences too. But she kind of glossed over that. She made it sound like we'd only get bits of contextual memories to make the knowledge make more sense.

"The Slytherin-me was far from impressed by the Gryffindor-me, which… well, I'm sure you can get that. He wasn't too keen on the idea of doing the memory copy thing until he found out that Gryffindor-me knew the prophecy. To be honest, Gryffindor-me really should have seen that as a red-flag, but at the time I didn't exactly think it would matter what this other-world version of me was like or what his life had been like outside of the fact that he was a lot more studious than the Gryffindor-me had ever been. In the end, we both agreed and followed Sakndenberg's instructions.

"Next thing I know I'm knocked unconscious and waking up some time later on the floor and the mirror is gone. All that was left was this little hand-mirror, but I never managed to get anything to happen with it… but I did keep it. Anyway, at first I honestly didn't notice any changes at all and wondered if I'd imagined the whole thing. But by the next day it started to become obvious that something _had_ happened, as I suddenly knew all this stuff that I'd never known before. Except that I couldn't tell. I honestly didn't realize that I'd changed at all. The knowledge, and the memories that had shown up already at that point, all felt like they were _mine_. Nothing ever felt foreign or borrowed. And ever since then more and more knowledge and memories have sort of been seeping in, messing with my head. Messing with how I see the whole bloody world. Because it's so much more than just _knowledge_. I'm not just getting little snippets of contextual memories so things make more sense. I'm getting _all of it_. His whole life these last five years have been filling my head, taking up the same space as the memories of what _actually_ happened in this world. Except these memories are _fresher_. They're _sharper_. In a lot of cases, they feel _more real_ than my _real memories_."

"Wait - wait," Draco held up his hand, halting Harry's story. "You're really serious about this? This is all for real?"

Harry sighed and nodded. "Absolutely serious. Although there have certainly been times over the last month where I'd wished it had really just been a dream."

"So _this_ is why you're suddenly performing so well in classes? —Why you're doing such amazing work in Potions?"

Harry flushed, feeling a rush of pleasure knowing that Draco had been impressed with his work, though he knew he was being stupid for feeling so.

"Yeah, I er… had a much better work ethic when I was sorted into Slytherin. No Ron to drag me down, I guess." Harry felt bad as soon as the words had left his mouth and grimaced.

Draco snorted, having apparently found that statement amusing.

"Plus, I had a mentor…" Harry said so softly, it was practically a whisper.

"Mentor?"

Harry cracked a weak crooked smile. "Yeah. He took me in the summer after third year. Taught me all sorts of things. Taught me about curses and dueling… I'd been trying to do decent work in classes before that, of course. I wanted to keep up pace with you, and with Blaise, but after… after _He_ took me in, I had a new reason to try hard. I had someone to impress. Sort of like how you tried so hard because you wanted your father to be proud of you. You didn't want to disappoint him. And I didn't want to disappoint…" Harry trailed off and closed his eyes tightly, swallowing the thick lump that had formed in his throat.

Draco's lips were parted and his brow was furrowed with a look of stunned disbelief.

"You're really serious about all this. You… you remember some version of reality where you were sorted into _Slytherin_ instead of Gryffindor?"

Harry let out a weak, forced laugh. "I remember sharing a dorm with you, Vince, Greg, Blaise, and Theo. I remember that first month back in our first year how Greg's snoring drive Blaise so crazy that he spent a whole weekend during the second month of school, in the library finding and then weeks teaching himself to cast this audio ward that would last all night.

All this just so he could keep the area around his bed quiet. And I remember how angry Snape got when he found out, pointing out that if Blaise was trapped in a bubble of silence and there was some sort of emergency, Blaise wouldn't hear any of the warning sirens or bells…"

Draco's eyes had slowly widened and his lips parted in obvious shock. "How could you know about that?" he half-whispered.

Harry let out a small humorless laugh. "Because a version of me was there with you guys. Just not in _this_ world." Harry turned and looked at Draco with longing sadness in his eyes, and by the startled flinch he saw Draco make, the blond had obviously seen the intensity Harry felt. "You were my best mate. My _best friend_. And in the last year… even more. We were together all the time. The summer after second year you invited me to stay at the manor, so I wouldn't have to go back to the filthy muggle bastards I have the misfortune of calling family. Your father bought me my first broom that summer, even though I didn't give a shit about Quidditch, just because you wanted someone to practice with.

"Didn't give a shit about Quidditch!?" Draco exclaimed, looking both affronted and disbelieving.

Harry laughed and nodded. "I associated it with my father. The big, famous, Quidditch Captain," Harry drawled, rolling his eyes and sneering, before flinching and grimacing at his own behavior. "I remember hating being compared to my father… I didn't want to do anything that he was famous for, so I wanted nothing to do with Quidditch, even though I did enjoy flying."

"What made this other-you hate your father?" Draco asked, honestly bewildered.

"Because I thought he was a fool," Harry whispered. "A fool for falling in with Dumbledore's manipulations. —For blindly following the man who got them killed…"

"Uhh…" Draco said, looking hesitantly dubious of Harry's apparent logic.

Harry smiled sadly and sighed. "My mum and dad died because they were members of the Order of the Phoenix and they trusted everything Dumbledore told them or promised them. He promised them he could protect them from Voldemort, but the only reason Voldemort was even after them in the first place was because Dumbledore set us up. We were his bait. _I_ was his bait…"

Draco's eyes widened and his brows raised into his forehead with intrigue.

"But… I thought it was because of the prophecy?" Draco said hesitantly.

"Slytherin-me was convinced the prophecy was faked," Harry said with a defeated shrug. "Of course he was never able to hear the whole thing, so it was just an educated guess. Honestly… I think even this-me might agree, and _I know what it says_. Things just don't quite add up in some areas. I mean, first off, Trelawney is a hack. She's a fake and there's no arguing that fact. So this one time, _during a bloody job interview,_ she miraculously makes a real prophecy?" Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Whoa, wait - are you saying that _The Prophecy_ \- the one my father is in prison for trying to get - was made by Professor Trelawney!?" Draco exclaimed both in horror and outrage.

Harry snorted derisively and nodded. "The one and only. What's more, not only did she do it during a job interview, but the job interview in question was held out at the Hog's Head! Who the hell holds a job interview for a Professor in a _pub_!? And if you're going to do it in a pub for whatever reason, why _that_ pub? The place is a dump! So why the Hog's Head? Well, it just so happens that the Hog's Head is owned by Dumbledore's brother. Do you know why Snape wasn't able to hear the whole prophecy? Because at _just the right time_ , Aberforth Dumbledore came up behind him and kicked him out. _How convenient,_ " he drawled sarcastically.

"Snape?! What?"

Harry faltered. "Snape was the one who heard the original prophecy - or rather, heard the first few lines of the prophecy - and took what he'd heard to the Dark Lord, and that's what started the whole thing."

Draco silently mouthed the word 'Severus?' obviously surprised by this news.

"So… you're saying that you think Trelawney making a prophecy was setup with the intention of a Death Eater overhearing it?" Draco asked a moment later. "You think that Dumbledore arranged it with his brother to have it interrupted? But why would he do that? Why leak a prophecy that would paint a giant 'kill me' target on the backs of some of his most loyal fighters?"

"The prophecy itself served as an extremely successful diversion for Voldemort for more than a year and a half. The Ministry was on the brink of total collapse when that 'prophecy' _conveniently_ happened. But once the Dark Lord found out about it, other operations began to slow, and once I was born, he stopped all major operations entirely and focused on trying to track me and my parents down. All of the big missions after that were focused on trying to get to, and kill, me. It completely derailed the momentum the Death Eaters had going at the time and gave the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix time to regroup and recover."

Draco's lips were once again parted and a light of stunned understanding filled his eyes.

"And as for me and my parents, Dumbledore was actually really effective at keeping us safe for as long as he needed to keep the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters distracted. For more than a year, we were apparently moved from one safe-house to the next, always one step ahead of Voldemort - turns out Dumbledore had a spy feeding him information and feeding the Dark Lord _false_ information… that's another story though. But suddenly Dumbledore up and suggests the idea of putting the Fidelius up around my Dad's family home and letting us stay in one place for a while. This also just happened to be around the same time that Pettigrew defected and joined the Death Eaters.

"I think that Dumbledore had a plan of some sort. A trap. He _knew_ that Pettigrew had turned traitor and used him as a way to leak me and my parent's location, just when the time was right for Dumbledore's plan to be put into motion. Whatever it was that happened that night that saved me from the killing curse - I don't believe the bull about it being because of my mum's sacrifice protecting me. I mean, how many mum's have willingly given their lives in hopes of protecting their children from someone's killing curse? At the height of the attacks in the 70's I'm sure there were _loads_. But for some reason only I survive? Why? What made my situation special?

"I think Dumbledore had arranged some sort of special ritual or spell or something in hopes of finally destroying the Dark Lord. He probably told my parents it was a protective spell for me, but in reality it was something that was supposed to break through whatever protections the Dark Lord had in place and kill Voldemort once and for all. But something went wrong, probably related to the methods that Voldemort had used to secure his immortality and the fact that he was planning on using my death as the catalyst for another one of his little safety nets and had already prepped some rituals before hand. I think it all mixed together and threw everything out of whack."

"Do you have any evidence for any of this?" Draco asked, both skeptically and curiously.

Harry sighed, "The Slytherin-me had _some_. But lots of it was hearsay, and piecing together bits and pieces of conjecture. And I'm sure that the _old Gryffindor-me_ would balk at how circumstantial some of it is, and make excuses for this, or that, but now… I can't help but…" Harry ground out a frustrated sound and rubbed roughly at his face before heaving a heavy sigh and letting his hands fall to his sides. "I believe it," he whispered. "I really do believe it. That Dumbledore was behind it all. That I was just bait. Just a pawn in his game of chess with the Dark Lord. We were sacrificed for the greater good, but the moves didn't play out like he'd expected.

"Things went all pear-shaped and he had to change his strategy. But even after that, he wasn't done with me. I survived, and he saw that I was still useful. All these years, the Gryffindor-me has trusted him. I honestly _believed_ that he was on my side. But it was all a lie. He's been lying to me… all this time," Harry's voice broke with a whisper and he had to squeeze his eyes shut again, against the hot sting of threatening tears. "The betrayal is what hurts the most… it wasn't as bad when I was a Slytherin. I never got close to him there. Never trusted him like the Gryffindor-me did. But now I _know_. I know the truth, and tonight I sat there and watched as he lied, right to my face. _Lied_ to me… and he's been lying and intends to _keep_ lying. And I'm just _disgusted._ Disgusted with him, and disgusted with myself for being so naive and so trusting…"

Harry let his head fall forward, his shaggy hair falling down in front of his face. He reached up and smoothed his palm over his face and a long tired groan escaped his lips. "It took me until tonight before all of this really came to a head. I think my mind has been suppressing a huge chunk of the memories to try and protect me from having to face the brunt of this cluster-fuck. But Dumbledore had me go to his office tonight for _-a lesson_ ," Harry said, drawling the last two words in the most derisive sing-song tone possible.

"Lesson?"

Harry snorted and sneered at nothing in particular. "Over the summer he told me that he wanted to start giving me _lessons_. I got all excited and optimistic thinking that he was going to start teaching me dueling, or special magic lessons or something." Harry scoffed. "Turns out that the lessons are nothing more than trips through pensieve-land, complete with modified memories designed to manipulate the evidence to support the narrative he's presenting. The _lessons_ are nothing more than another method to manipulate me into becoming his perfect little martyr."

"Merlin, I feel like _I'm_ the one whose stepped into an alternate reality," Draco said, looking at Harry with wide, stunned eyes. "I mean… who the hell are you and what have you done with Harry Bloody Potter?"

Harry let out a humorless laugh before sighing, moving over to the nearest wall and leaning his back against it and slowly sliding down to sit on the ground. He sat there with his legs bend up and his arms came to lazily wrap around them while his head fell down and rested on his knees.

"A lot of things have been different between this world and the other one," Harry started, speaking softly as he slowly looked up and off to the left. "But there were other things that were the same. Dumbledore brought the Philosopher's Stone to Hogwarts our first year, just like he did here, and Voldemort was possessing Quirrell in that world too, just like this one… Even with me being sorted into Slytherin, I think that Dumbledore was still hoping he might manage to maneuver me into the places he wanted me with the right manipulations here and there. It was fairly successful that first year too. He still gave me back my father's invisibility cloak - though he didn't do it anonymously in that world, there's no way that you lot would have let me trust an anonymous gift like that - but anyway, he also still managed to lure me into seeing the Mirror of Erised over Christmas break, which also happened here in this world."

"The mirror of what?"

"It was this thing he used to try and protect the Philosopher's Stone at the end of that pathetic series of 'traps' he had the teachers put in place… it doesn't matter. The point of it was to make sure I knew what the mirror was and how it worked so that I'd be able to protect the stone from Voldemort in the end. It was a test as much as it was training. I'm convinced the entire Philosopher's Stone thing was a setup to test me. The protections he had guarding it were a joke that I was able to get past _as a first year_ , even as a Gryffindor. The only reason it took Quirrell and Voldemort till the end of the year to get down there was because they expected the protections to be more serious than they really were and only realized at the end that there was nothing to really fear there. The only real challenge was the Mirror at the end, and _I_ was supposed to figure that out and still protect it. The thing was that I didn't. I… I gave it to him," Harry finished this with a whisper.

Draco's brows raised into his forehead with surprise and intrigue.

"I let him leave with it, and pretended that he'd managed to trick me into handing it over or something. Dumbledore didn't really believe me and I could tell, even back then before I knew what Legilimency was, or had any idea that he was reading my mind practically every damn time we spoke.

"I didn't hear from Voldemort for a long time after that, and he didn't contact any of his Death Eaters either, since he still had to work out how to use the Stone and the Elixir to create himself a new body. So a lot of things about second year started out similar to this world. Your father still slipped the Diary into Ginny Weasley's cauldron in hopes that it would serve a double-purpose of discrediting Dumbledore when he was unable to protect the students from the attacks, and discrediting Arthur Weasley when it was revealed that it was his daughter perpetrating the attacks. Nothing else was really the same though, of course, what with me being a Slytherin. And I wasn't stupid enough to let it get out that I was a parselmouth, so no one ever accused me of being Slytherin's heir." Harry paused and snorted as a small amused grin managed to curl the corner of his lips.

"What's so funny about that?" Draco asked curiously.

"It's just that in a way… I am."

"You are…? What?" Draco asked in confusion.

"I'm part Voldemort," Harry whispered. "It happened the night he tried to kill me. The night that Dumbledore had probably cast some spell on me designed to destroy Voldemort if he tried to attack me. I think that all of the magic mixed together. The ritual prep Voldemort had undergone before - Dumbledore's spell, whatever it was - the type of protections that Voldemort had in place to protect his mortality - and the killing curse. It all came together like a crazy messed up knot, with me stuck in the middle. A piece of Voldemort was broken off and got lodged in me. I've grown up with it as a part of me. It's the reason that I'm a parselmouth, and why I sometimes have dreams and visions from Voldemort's perspective. Why I can sometimes see through his eyes…"

Draco was openly gaping at him now and his jaw had practically fallen to the floor he looked so stunned.

"You… you've got a _piece_ of the _Dark Lord, in you?_ What does that even _mean?_ How long have you known this?" Draco asked incredulously.

"I didn't know. Not till an hour ago when all these memories got unlocked. I've had this piece of the Dark Lord in me, basically my entire life, and never had any idea. But Dumbledore knew," Harry said, his voice going low and bitter.

"Does… does the Dark Lord know any of this?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Not a bit," Harry said with a humorless chuckle. "Dumbledore couldn't possibly risk him finding out. If Voldemort knew I was walking around with a piece of him inside me, he would stop trying to kill me, _and Dumbledore needs Voldemort to kill me,"_ he drawled bitterly.

"Dumbledore, what?"

"It's his plan that I die," Harry said in a flat, and now totally unamused tone. "And that's not the other world that I'm talking about. That's this one. All this time, he's led me to believe that as long as things fall into place, just right, that I'll be able to walk away from this mess, as long as Voldemort can be defeated." Harry scoffed bitterly. "But that's never been true. Voldemort can't die as long as I live. He'll never be destroyed until after I'm dead. But Dumbledore is too much of a coward to just get it over with and kill me himself, so he's waiting for the right time to let Voldemort do it for him. That's why he's never made any effort to teach me any special skills, and why he's never encouraged me academically. In fact the only encouragement he's ever given me was when I risked my life.

"How many times has he thrown some entirely unreasonable number of house points at me, in reward for nearly getting myself killed? He was showing me just how much he secretly approved of my reckless bravery so that I'd keep doing it. Maybe eventually I'd stick my neck out too far and get it chopped off. Nice and simple solution to one of his most bothersome problems. He's not responsible for my death if it happens like that."

"Bloody hell," Draco whispered, looking totally stunned.

Draco actually walked over at this point and after a moment's hesitation, he crouched down and then lowered himself to sitting cross-legged on the floor a couple feet in front of Harry.

"So you just realized all of this recently? Because of the memories?" Draco asked, sounding honestly curious. "You said it happened _tonight?"_

"Yeah, that's right. It all came rushing in tonight," Harry said tiredly. "Like I said, I think my mind was suppressing anything that would lead me to realizing my connections to Voldemort, which honestly, was a lot, but something I saw tonight in Dumbledore's office triggered a memory that kind of unlocked the rest. It was like a cascade started and suddenly they all started to fall into place and I couldn't ignore any of it anymore."

"And you came to me?" Draco asked incredulously.

Harry chuckled weakly. "Well, I couldn't exactly go to Voldemort for advice. He's completely out of his mind in this world."

Draco got a funny look on his face at this. "Are you suggesting that he's different in the other one?"

"The Elixir of Life from the Philosopher's Stone had a strange effect on him. It healed the damage he'd done to his soul, but only temporarily. If he took the Elixir every day, he was totally restored, but if he went a few days without any, he would start to deteriorate again. It was enough of a contrast that he had to admit that something was wrong with him and start to figure out how to fix it for real. He didn't want to be totally dependent on the Elixir to remain sane and rational."

Draco's eyes went wide as galleons. "A sane and rational Dark Lord?" he whispered sounding both amazed a desperate. He seemed to register what he'd insinuated a moment later because he flushed and ducked his head a bit.

"Yeah… it was while he was working out what was wrong with him and how to fix it that he detected that I was holding a piece of his soul in me. You see, he split his soul into a bunch of different pieces with each one hidden inside an object. Each of these objects acts like an anchor, holding him in this world. That way, even if his body is destroyed, his soul can't float off and move on because it's tied to all of the other pieces of his soul and they're stuffed inside these other anchor-objects."

"Stuffing _pieces of his soul_ into objects?" Draco muttered in incredulous horror.

"Yup," Harry said, popping the 'p' at the end.

"This is… this is _mental._ "

Harry snorted.

"So… this other version of you sided with the Dark Lord? Is that what you're saying?" Draco asked, sounding utterly astonished by this notion.

"Well, yeah. I'm not exactly keen on the idea of dying for Dumbledore's cause, especially when it's looking more and more like the only reason my parents died in the first place was because Dumbledore set us up. And after all that went down, he went and left me on the doorstep of the most atrocious and obnoxious muggles imaginable, where I was treated worse than a house elf, lied to, denied any knowledge of magic, and practically starved for ten years. Why the fuck would I want to help that lying sack of dragon dung with anything?"

Draco stared at Harry in silent shock for all of five seconds before bursting into a rather stunned-sounding laugh.

"Bloody hell! This is insane!" Draco exclaimed, looking more alive than Harry had seen him all term. His mirth died down and he paused to look at Harry as if he were seeing him for the first time anew. "You're really serious about all of this? You're… wait, are you _switching sides?!_ Harry Bloody Potter, the Chosen One, is _switching sides?!"_

Harry let out a frustrated grown and leaned back against the wall again. "I have absolutely no idea _what_ the hell I'm doing. This is the first time I've even said any of this out loud. Hell, I'd hardly let myself even think over all this until I came in here. But I just… I needed to get it out. I think talking about it is starting to help me piece it all together better, too… But the truth is that I… I can't join Voldemort's side, as he is right now. He's completely out of his mind! He's a homicidal psychopath, dead set on genocide. I can't get behind that, no matter how much I think I hate Dumbledore right now."

"Well what are you going to do, then?" Draco asked, frowning slightly.

"I don't know," Harry groaned. "If only there was some way I could restore his soul like he did in the other world…"

"Well, do you know how he did it before?"

"Vaguely, but he did most of the restoration while I was at Hogwarts during our third year. I was only there for one of the rituals because he didn't do it until the following summer. He had me grab one of the last of the horcruxes - er, that's the name of the vessels that hold pieces of souls - he had me grab one of them that was actually hidden here in the school, and bring it to him. That's the only one that I got to witness him re-incorporate."

"He actually let you watch?" Draco whispered in amazement.

"I lived with him that summer," Harry whispered softly, almost terrified to admit it.

Draco's eyes went round as galleons. "You _lived_ with the Dark Lord for the summer after third year?"

"And every year since then," Harry said, nodding.

"Great Merlin…"

"That _mentor_ I mentioned earlier? That's him. That was Voldemort."

Draco gaped at him for several long beats before a suspicious glare grew in his eyes. "If that were true, there's no way you'd still being saying His name like that. It's disrespectful and there's no way the Dark Lord would tolerate anyone saying it as much as you do."

Harry rolled his eyes slightly and huffed out a breath. "Honestly, that's a hold-over from the Gryffindor-me. _That_ me has always hating the whole 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' rubbish, and _that_ part of me is still freaking out that part of me feels inclined to call him _The Dark Lord._ But even Slytherin-me didn't call him _The Dark Lord_ all the time - not after I'd moved in with him."

"Then what did you call him?" Draco asked in a guarded tone.

"Marvolo," Harry said with a sigh.

Draco blinked, silent for a beat. " _Marvolo?_ "

"It's his middle name. It got weird constantly using the whole 'My Lord' thing, for both of us actually. And mind you, he'd recovered at this point, he was _nothing_ like he is here in this world. I was walking around with a piece of his soul in me, and he wanted to treat me differently than just another one of his followers. He took me in, and he promised to look after me. He… he became something of a father figure to me…" Harry finished with weak, reluctant voice.

"Bloody, fucking, hell," Draco said in slow, clipped words, looking at Harry with stunned eyes.

Harry let out a weak laugh before heaving a long sigh.

"Well, that's just completely insane. So what about the soul piece that's in you? Did he ever try to re-incorporate that one?"

Harry shook his head. "No, he couldn't. It had bonded to my soul, mostly because it had been tiny when it first entered me, but as I grew, it grew too. So my soul and his soul are kind of like… braided together, or something. If it was removed forcibly, it would have caused tremendous trauma, and most likely killed me in the process."

"Okay, so the one in you is out, but the rest could still be put back in him, right?"

"The problem is that two of them have already been destroyed," Harry said. "And not just _any_ two, but the two largest ones."

"They're different sizes?"

"Yes, actually. Okay, so Horcruxes are super-taboo. It's damn near impossible to find _anything_ written about them, anywhere. And what _is_ written is usually really vague. He first decided to do this back when he was our age. He made his first horcrux when he was only fifteen, and a lot of it was improvised because he couldn't find a lot of detail on it in any books. He said that at the time he was really proud of himself since he'd managed to work out this incredibly complex form of magic that few others were even willing to attempt, going off of nearly no concrete texts. Plus no one else had ever done it more than once, which he attributed to them being too cowardly.

"He didn't realize that there was a very valid reason for not making more than one horcrux. He thought that each time he made one it was only breaking off a small piece of his soul, but in reality the ritual literally broke the soul in half. One half was left in the main body while the other half got crammed into whatever vessel was chosen. So the first horcrux - the diary - had half of his soul. The second horcrux, a ring that belonged to his uncle, contained one quarter of his soul. And those two are the horcruxes that have been destroyed. So three-quarters of his soul has potentially been lost."

"And without those pieces, you can't restore his soul," Draco concluded in a disappointed voice.

"I certainly wouldn't be able to restore it enough to make a very big difference," Harry said shaking his head sadly.

"But… okay, you said that the vessels were destroyed, but does that actually mean the pieces of soul that were in them were destroyed too? Maybe they were just set free and not destroyed," Draco said.

"But if they were released, wouldn't they go back to the main soul? If they'd returned to him, it'd be a lot more noticeable, so that obviously hasn't happened."

"Maybe, but maybe not. Just because they're not anchored to an object anymore doesn't mean that the pieces of soul would be drawn back to the main body. Maybe they're just free-floating or something."

"I suppose I could _hope_ for something like that, but it's not something I know how to find out, and even if I could find out if that were the case, I still wouldn't know how to get those pieces of soul back in him."

Draco heaved a sigh and leaned back, extending his arms behind him to prop up his weight while he looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Who would know anything about that sort of magic? That's got to be some seriously dark stuff… maybe Severus cou—"

" _NO,_ " Harry said sharply.

Draco rolled his eyes dramatically and huffed out an irritated breath. "Bloody hell, Potter. Even with these memories from this considerably-better-counterpart's life, you still hold a grudge against Professor Snape?"

"Even the Slytherin-me hated him," Harry said, glaring. "He's a spy and a traitor, and he stabbed me in the back - er, in the other world, anyway. I thought I could trust him, and I was wrong. He went straight to Dumbledore and everything went to shit after that."

Draco sat up straighter, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Wait, what?"

"He's Dumbledore's man, through and through," Harry said bitterly. "The funny thing is that the Gryffindor-me hated him partially because I was convinced he was really a secret Death Eater, and the Slytherin-me hates him because I know he's really not."

"Severus _is_ a Death Eater," Draco said in a tone one would use when explaining something to a small child.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, _I know_. But he's actually _spying_ on the Death Eaters for Dumbledore. I get that everything seems to think that he's a double-agent for _their side_ , and yet everyone is still suspicious as to whether or not his loyalties just _might_ lie elsewhere, but no one is ever really sure. The thing is that _I_ _am sure_. He had to show his true colors at one point and in the end there was no question that when push came to shove and he had to pick between loyalty to Dumbledore or loyalty to the Dark Lord, he picked Dumbledore."

"Are you sure he wasn't just picking _'not-you'_? His loathing for you seems to run pretty deep."

Harry shook his head. "No, I'm sure. He can't be trusted. Apparently he was in love with my mum. That's probably the biggest reason he hated my dad, actually. My dad 'got the girl' and I'm the evil spawn of that unholy union. Anyway, you know how I mentioned that Dumbledore had a man on the inside of the Death Eaters that made it possible for him to stay one step ahead of the Dark Lord and keep me and my parents safe? That was Snape."

Draco's eyes widened and his face slackened minutely before he shifted to thoughtful. "Huh… okay, not Severus then. So who else? I'd ask my father, except _that's_ not an option, is it?" Draco sneered, glowering in Harry's direction.

Harry paled, and then ducked his head and hunched his shoulders, sort of sinking in on himself. "Gods, Draco… I really am so sorry for that," Harry whispered horsely.

Draco obviously hadn't expected a reaction quite that strong because he shifted uncomfortably for a moment before scowling at himself. "Well you _should_ be sorry," he spat a moment later.

"I am," Harry whispered as he wrapped his arms around his bent knees and buried his face in them. "Gods, Dray, I hate myself so much when I think about this stuff. The mess I've made because I was so naive and trusting. Because of me, your father is in Azkaban, and you mum is having to play hostess to this utterly insane version of the Dark Lord, and _you've_ been Marked by him. And who knows what ridiculous task he's set you to, just so he has an excuse to kill you when you fail. All just so he can punish your father from afar for failing _to kill me_. Well — failing to get the prophecy, mostly, but both, really."

"How the hell did —" Draco began but stopped himself an instant later. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

Harry raised his head up just enough so he could peer over the tops of his knees. "But I'm right though, aren't I? He's marked you and given you some impossible task. I've been watching you for the last month… bloody hell, I've been worried sick about you, even before I understood why I would be worried about you. Ron thought I'd lost my mind."

Draco's expression slipped into a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief before he masked it with a scowl. " _You_ were _worried_ about me? Fuck off Potter, I don't need your _pity_."

"It's not pity," Harry whispered. "It's guilt. This is all _my_ fault. I mean, things probably would have been so much easier if I'd gone on being ignorant and let this whole ridiculous path play out and ended up dead in the end - at least then there wouldn't be this hiccup in the middle where I suddenly realize I'm on the wrong side and everything has gone to shit."

Draco sniffed airily, tipping his chin up. "Yes, I suppose for Gryffindors ignorance is bliss. Thats how you lot go around all day - just running off into idiotic situations without knowing what the hell you're even doing first. Like _you_ doing this whole mirror thing without even understanding how it worked."

Harry cracked a shaky smile and chuckled. "Yeah. Bloody idiot, I am." Harry reached up and rubbed at his face before heaving another heavy sigh. "There's this war going on in my head. One part of me will freak out and feel awful because I'm having all of these thoughts of switching sides, and I'll realize that if I do that, it means I'm betraying everyone that I've ever cared about _in this world_ \- the Weasleys, Hermione, Tonks and Lupin and everyone… but then another part of me will think about what my actions have done to the people I cared about in the _other_ world, and I hate myself all over again.

"And then I think about how all the people that were important to me as a Slytherin _hate_ me now. I've got all these memories in my head of hanging out with you and the guys, and Pansy dragging me shopping, and helping Greg cram for his OWLs last spring… and those summers with Marvolo… they were some of the best times of _my life_. I mean, the Gryffindor me sort of felt the same way about Sirius. The idea, after third year, that he could take me in and look after me. The thing is that Sirius _couldn't actually do it_. He was on the run. I only got to stay with him for a portion of the summer after fourth year, and the winter break during fifth… that was it. We wrote as many letters as we could, but we always had to keep it cryptic and brief.

"And I _loved_ Sirius. He meant the world to me. But Marvolo? He was there for me. He took me in, and he taught me things, and he cared when things happened. Sirius was a laugh, but Marvolo really took responsibility for me in the way you might expect a parent to do. He even came to the school in disguise when I got injured. That was _insane!_ Talk about sneaking into the lions den!"

Harry paused and sighed. "I love him like a father. I _still_ love him. I still think of that man like…" Harry twisted up his face in a pained expression. "But he's _gone_. He's _gone_. It's almost worse than Sirius dying. It's like Marvolo has suddenly been ripped away from me, and _he's gone_.

"It's bad enough knowing that all of the other Slytherin's _hate me_ … but at least they're all still here. And you? Merlin, that's been ripping me up inside for the last month, thinking that I can feel like this about you, and my whole damn outlook on us has changed, but you still see me the way I was, and you still _hate_ me, and deservingly so! I mean, I gave as good as I got - we have both been shits to each other over the years, but I can't look back and see that anymore. I still remember it, it's not like the Slytherin memories overwrote the Gryffindor ones, but there's so many _more_ of the Slytherin ones. You and me fighting happened here and there, but you and me being close was _every day_. You… you became so important to me. And the thought of losing that is so… so painful. Losing you. Losing Marvolo… I hate it. I feel like I've lost the two most important people in the world to me. At least you're still here, even if you do hate the very air I breath. But Marvolo? Marvolo never even existed, as I knew him, at all. It feels like he's lost to me forever…"

Draco stared at Harry with an unreadable expression for several silent moments before he seemed to shake his head in an incredulous manner. " _I_ was one of the most important people to you?" he asked, his voice small and bewildered.

Harry let out a small humorless laugh. "You still are," he whispered hoarsely. "I can't make these feelings and notions go away. They're part of me now. I guess with time…" he sighed and leaned back letting his head thud heavily against the wall behind him. "But I kept telling myself that when this started. _Maybe with time, I'd get used to it and things would go back to normal…_ But I don't think it's actually going to be that easy. I'm not even sure that there's any part left of me that _wants_ things to go back to the way they were when I was just a Gryffindor."

"But I mean… _me?_ Just because we were friends?" Draco pressed, disbelievingly.

Harry let his head lull to the side, avoiding Draco's intense, confused gaze. "We started dating," he whispered. "Last year…" He glanced sideways, terrified of what he might find on Draco's face.

Draco seemed to sway somewhat in his seated position, as if he'd just lost his balance and had a momentary dizzy spell. He gaped openly at Harry, but his expression was one of shock, rather than horror or disgust as Harry had more immediately expected.

"Dating," Draco echoed numbly.

Harry nodded silently.

"Us? _You and me?_ " Draco said, his voice cracking.

The corner of Harry's mouth turned up despite himself and he nodded again before the momentary mirth left him and he sighed. "I get that the idea is probably pretty horrific to you. I mean… _you hate me_. From your point of view, you and I have been awful to each other for five solid years. There's nothing in there to earn me even one iota of positive feelings from you. And… I know there's nothing I could possibly do to change the way you feel about me enough to even consider _friendship,_ let alone something more than that… I… I don't even know what I'm saying. I'm just so damn tired, and I don't know what to do anymore. There's _no one_ I can turn to. I can't go to Marvolo for advice because he's basically non-existent, I can't go to Sirius because he's _dead_. I can't turn to Ron or Hermione because they'd both be horrified if they knew about _any_ of this. Ron would just freak out, and Hermione would probably insist I go talk to Dumbledore to get things straightened out, and there's no way in hell I'm going to him about this…"

"But you came to me," Draco said in an emotionless voice.

Harry bent his head forward wrapping one hand over top of it while the other continued to wrap around his bent knees. He squeezed his eyes tight shut, but no matter how hard he fought it, he could feel the warm sting of tears leaking between the cracks and down his cheeks. "I don't know what to do, Drake… I feel so damn lost," he said in a hoarse voice. "I miss you so fucking much…" his chest and shoulders shook with tremors against his will as a hiccough forced its way out between his lips.

His shoulders shook several more times in the dead silence of the room while Harry sat there, quietly crying. Draco said nothing; just sat and waited until Harry had managed to regain some semblance of control. He sniffed several times and reluctantly pulled back from his knees in order to take his tear-spattered glasses off of his face and fumble with his robes to clean them. He rubbed roughly in embarrassment with the back of his forearm across his face, looking anywhere except for Draco, terrified of what he'd see there.

"God, I'm sorry. I must look so pathetic to you," Harry muttered finally, putting the glasses back on his face.

"Kiss me," Draco said suddenly.

Harry's head jerked up in shock. "Huh?"

"Prove to me you're not lying about all this."

"By kissing you?" Harry asked with stunned bewilderment.

Draco rolled his eyes, though the annoyance he put on display was muddled with embarrassment. "If you're telling the truth about all of this, you shouldn't have any problem with kissing me. You should even _want to_. But if this is some sort of bizarre concocted story, you could have said it all with the expectation that I'd never call you on it, because I'd never want to engage in that sort of activity with you, so you'd never have to follow through on it.

"Wha…" Harry began, trailing off and feeling rather speechless he was so confused.

Draco made another dramatic gesture of annoyance and almost looked as if he were about to stand up.

Harry's stunned stupor snapped back and before he even had the time to process anything, Harry sprung forward, moving from his seated position, forward and onto his knees in the blink of an eye. Before Draco had the chance to actually move much at all, Harry was kneeling in front of him, his face less than an inch from Draco's.

"Do you really mean it?" he asked breathlessly.

Draco, to his credit, only jerked back a small bit in surprise at Harry's sudden movement.

"I never say anything I don't mean," Draco said haughtily.

Harry smiled and chuckled. "Bollocks." Without another moment's hesitation, he pushed forward, pressing his lips against Draco's.

Draco made a slightly startled sound but it was instantly muffled as Harry tilted his head and pressed forward. He parted his lips slightly, tracing the cupid's bow of Draco's lips with his tongue before pulling it between his lips again. The kiss was slow and sensual and finally Harry pulled back, sitting on his feet and letting out a slow quiet sigh.

"Thank you… for letting me do that," Harry whispered.

Draco, managed to look only mildly stunned. He wobbled, off-balance, for a second before seeming to gather himself.

"Yes, well…" Draco said in a breathless voice, though he didn't seem to know where to go from there and his voice trailed off instead.

"Why?" Harry asked, finally looking up and staring into Draco's pale eyes.

"Why what?" Draco said in a tone that was supposed to sound snooty and confident, but was too shaky to actually pull it off.

"Why let me do that? Why kiss me?"

"I told you - so I could tell if you were making it all up —"

Harry shook his head, smiling slightly. "No, I mean it. Draco… please? Why? You _hate_ me… I don't get…" Harry trailed off somewhat helplessly.

Draco shifted uncomfortably and now it was his turn to have difficulty making eye contact. "I… _may_ have… fancied you… for a while," he mumbled.

Harry's jaw dropped and he stared at Draco in astonished disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Draco looked up, scowling at Harry now, "Don't make me repeat it."

"But — I mean… _you_ fancy… me?"

"Did I _not_ just say that?" Draco said bitingly as an embarrassed flush covered his cheeks.

Harry put his hands up defensively. "I.. _really?_ "

" _Potter_ ," Draco said warningly.

Harry's face broke into an elated smile and a startled laugh escaped his lips. "Oh my god… this is amazing."

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry's dramatics. "I'm not making any promises, Potter."

"I know," Harry said quickly, still smiling. "But there's a chance now… I mean… a chance of us at least… at least not hating each other," Harry said appeasingly. "There's hope. That's all I need."

Draco looked uncomfortable, and his cheeks were pinked with a reluctant blush that Harry couldn't help but smile at even more.

"I never could have even dreamt of this being possible," Harry said softly a moment later. "You… you fancy me back."

Draco scowled in embarrassment, glancing off to the side and opting not to say anything back.

"For how long?" Harry asked, unable to help himself and earning a mile glare from Draco in return.

Finally the blond huffed out an annoyed breath and folded his arms over his chest. "Since last year," he muttered.

"Last year? When you were on the Inquisitorial Squad?"

Draco's face twisted up in a rather disgusted sneer, causing Harry some degree of surprise. "I hated that bloody woman…"

"Umbridge?"

Draco rolled his eyes. " _Yes_ , Umbridge. I knew better than to get on her bad side and agitate her at every turn, _like you did_ , but that didn't mean I actually enjoyed kissing that toads arse."

A small almost-relieved laugh escaped Harry's parted lips. "This is so amazing…"

Draco's face flushed again, and a war seemed to be raging between embarrassment, and reluctant pleasure.

Harry moved forward, getting up on his knees again and shuffling forward enough that their knees were now pressed against each other. Draco's eyes widened in surprise, though he said nothing and made no movement to back away.

"I want to get to know _this_ you. I want to get to know the Draco that grew up without me around. I know the one from the other world, but that's not you. I want to know what _your_ life has been like… what things matter to you… everything. Can… can that happen?"

Awe seemed to flash behind Draco's eyes for a beat before they clouded over again and he looked off to the side. "I don't exactly have the luxury to be spending time with you, Potter."

"Yeah, you do seem pretty busy… I'm guessing you've been working on something for the Dark Lord… Oh! Wait, that's perfect! I can help!"

Draco let out a short incredulous cough. "Help?" he laughed.

"Yeah! I mean, you're in here all the damn time doing whatever it is that you're up to. I can join you. Then we get the opportunity to, you know… get to know each other better. But in private. And I can help you with whatever this thing is he's making you do. Er… unless the assignment he's given you to kill me. If that's the case then… yeah, I'm not exactly going to help with _that_ … but —"

"No, Potter… I"m not supposed to kill _you._ "

Harry watched him worriedly for a moment before speaking. "But he does want you to kill someone?"

Draco heaved a defeated sigh and slumped back a bit from where he'd been sitting. "I can't believe I'm considering telling you this…"

"I think you've got enough dirt on me to blackmail me to hell in back if I threatened to tell anyone whatever you've got to tell me."

Draco snorted and made a one-shouldered shrug. "I suppose…"

"Please, Draco… let me help you."

Draco let out a forced breath and nodded slightly. "Fine. Yes, you're right in that the Dark Lord has given me a rather… impossible task. And you're probably right about _why_ he did it. He wants to punish father, but he's not willing to break him out of Azkaban yet. He wants him to stew for a while. So he demanded that I take the mark to make up for my father's failure."

"Can I see?"

Draco looked startled and confused for a moment, but Harry reached out a hand and gently rest it on Draco's left wrist. Draco flinched slightly and pulled his arm into his chest almost defensively.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked in a whispered voice.

Draco grimaced. "It's not that bad…"

"I can fix that, you know."

"Fix what?"

"It hurting. I know how to make it so it doesn't hurt."

Draco looked dubiously at him and hesitated for several beats before reluctantly stretching his arm outward. He pulled his sleeve back slowly with his right hand, and then undid the button on his shirt cuff so he could pull it back as well until his whole left forearm was exposed. There, on the pale flesh of Draco's arm was the Dark Mark.

"Oh Draco…" Harry said almost sadly as he gently traced his fingers along the outside of Draco's arm, just beyond the mark itself. Draco still flinched at the touch.

Before Draco had a chance to ask him what he was doing, Harry leaned forward until his face was but a few inches from Draco's arm. Harry began to hiss out a long string of words in parseltongue.

"What — ?" Draco began, startled, but then a gasp left his lips instead. The mark upon his arm was animating with the snake coming from the skulls mouth slithering about, uncoiling itself and moving backwards, up into the skull until only the snake's head and about half an inch of neck was left coming out of the skull's open mouth. The Mark faded as well until it was only the lightest bit of tint against his flesh.

Harry pulled back, sitting on his feet again as he knelt in front of Draco.

Draco stared at his arm in shock and reached out to run the fingers of his right hand against his arm.

"How'd you do that?" he asked.

"Marvolo taught me all about the Mark and how it worked," Harry said with a shrug. "Does it hurt less?"

"I don't even feel it anymore," Draco said, shaking his head and looking at it almost incredulously.

Harry smiled. "Brilliant."

"Er… thank you."

Harry felt his smile grow and a warmth seem to spread through his chest.

Draco flushed and looked uncomfortable, ducking his head somewhat awkwardly for a moment. "So… erm… right. Where were we… Ah, yes, so the Dark Lord… he assigned me the task of — of _killing_ Dumbledore."

Harry blinked. " _Dumbledore?_ "

Draco grimaced and looked as if he were feeling rather ill.

"Bloody hell, he wasn't even _subtle_ about it. There isn't even any _pretense_ about him expecting you to be able to do this."

"There was pretense," Draco said, defensively, apparently offended by Harry's insinuation.

"Oh _come on_. If there _were_ any real expectation about you being able to pull this off, Voldemort would be admitting that he believed _you_ could do something that even _he_ hasn't been able to accomplish."

Draco scowled for a moment but then sighed and nodded. "It's impossible."

"Was that cursed necklace intended for Dumbledore?" Harry asked gently.

Draco flinched and looked back up, meeting Harry's eyes. "How the bloody hell do you know all this? You worked out that the girl in the hall was Crabbe, you figured out I was marked, and guessed the Dark Lord's motivations for doing so…" Draco shook his head looking baffled. "I mean, it's not like stuff from this alternate reality of yours could tell you _all that?_ "

"I just… worked it out," Harry said, shrugging. "I've always had a keen intuition on things, I'm just better at observing stuff now, I suppose. And as for Crabbe, I've got this map that tells me the names and locations of everyone in the school, and when I looked on the map to try and find you, it said you were standing out there with Crabbe."

"A map that… are you serious?! Where did you get something like that!?"

"My father and his friends made it when they were students at Hogwarts. Honestly, I get the impression that Remus Lupin was responsible for most of it, by my father contributed quite a lot as well. I rather doubt Sirius did much more than goof off and lend moral support. And fuck Wormtail. I don't give a shit if he helped at all, but I doubt it."

"Can I see it?"

"The map? Sure," Harry said and dug into his inner robe pocket, pulling out the map - which was presently nothing more than a blank piece of parchment - and flattening it down on the floor between them. Harry pulled his wand out, tapped it to the map and said "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." A moment later the map appeared along with the standard message from Moony, Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail. The halls of the map were mostly still except for a few sets of moving footprints and floating names in the various common rooms and a few halls.

"Crikey…" Draco whispered as he ran his fingers over the surface of the parchment, examining it. "Great Merlin, what I could do if I had something like this…"

"I could probably let you use it for anything that's really important," Harry said gently.

"Really?"

Harry nodded.

Draco looked back down at the map with an expression of awe. "This is really brilliant. Who knew that pathetic old Professor Lupin could pull off something like this."

"And when he was only sixteen years old, too."

"I don't suppose there's any chance that _he'd_ know anything about soul magics then? He _is_ a Dark creature…" Draco said, skeptically.

Harry snorted and shook his head. "No, I really rather doubt that. He's specialized in defense against the dark arts, but I don't think that extends to things quite as forbidden as horcruxes." Harry heaved a sigh and shook his head. "The messed up thing is that my mind keeps offering up the one person I know _could_ help… except that he _can't_."

"Who?"

"Marvolo," Harry grumbled and shifted so he was in a more natural sitting position, rather than kneeling.

Draco frowned but looked thoughtful for a moment. "You said something about there being a small mirror left behind after you woke up from this whole memory transfer thing, didn't you?"

"Yeah. But no matter what I did with it, it was never anything but a mirror."

Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. "I thought you were supposed to be more clever now. Honestly, Potter. What possible reason would there be for such an advanced enchanted artifact as this Mirror of Paths to leave behind a worthless hand mirror for you to keep? The only reason something like that would have remained behind at all is if it served some purpose."

"Well, yeah, that makes sense," Harry conceded reluctantly. "It doesn't change the fact that I couldn't get the damn thing to do anything."

"Perhaps you were trying too soon, or didn't try the right thing," Draco suggested. "In any case, I think it's reasonable to expect something like that to allow you to either contact your counterpart, or at the least, contact this enchanted mirror's magical version of the headmistress that created it. If it's the former, then you have a potential access to this Dark Lord from the other world. If it's the later, then maybe contacting the main mirror will provide you with answers or options for contacting your other-world counterpart. In either case, it's worth investigating at least."

Harry shrugged. "Well, I suppose it's one option more than I had before."

"Where is this mirror now?"

"It's —" Harry began but trailed off for a moment before his eyes lit up. "Crikey, I think it's here, actually!"

"In the Room of Requirement?"

"In my rucksack!" Harry scooted and shifted until he could reach his discarded rucksack that lay several feet from his current location and pulled it over to where he'd previously sat. He reached inside and pulled out his wadded up invisibility cloak which he quickly un-wadded to reveal the small hand mirror he'd claimed from the floor of the room behind the statue, all those weeks ago.

"Is that your invisibility cloak?" Draco asked, his eyes transfixed on the translucent silvery fabric that was now partially obscuring Harry's lap.

"Yeah, I'll show you it later," Harry said, grabbing it and stuffing it back into his bag. "This is the mirror." He offered it up and Draco reached out and took it from him. He held it by it's silver handle, and examined it and his reflection in it for a moment before setting it down on the floor in front of him and pulling out his wand.

He performed a couple diagnostic spells on it that didn't seem to turn up anything obvious. If anything, the most suspicious part was that some of the diagnostic spells just turned up nothing at all.

Draco frowned and glared at it speculatively for several moments before holding it up in his hand with his arm outstretched in front of him at a distance, and just stared into it for several long moments. Finally he made a rather disappointed grunt and was about to set it back down when Harry saw him suddenly freeze. He squinted his eyes, pulling the mirror closer to his face and Harry found himself scooting around so that he could look over Draco's shoulder. What he saw there instantly caught his interest as instead of Draco's reflection, the mirror now shows swirling mist and darkness.

"What'd you do?" Harry asked.

"I… _nothing_ , honestly," Draco admitted. "I just just held it out and _looked into it_."

"I _tired that_ ," Harry insisted. "I stared into the damn thing for ten minutes straight at one point, but nothing ha—" but Harry cut his own words off as the mist began to swirl and something began to materialize out of the darkness.

"Bloody hell," Draco muttered as his eyes widened with surprise.

"What the—" another Draco said back from the mirror. The stunned looking Draco in the mirror seemed to turn and look over his shoulder and called out as if he were talking to someone beyond their sight. "Bloody hell, Harry! I'm seeing another me in this thing!"

"—at? What the hell! What are you doing with that blasted thing! I told you not to touch it!" a familiar voice came from the mirror, more muted and distant, but still audible. And then another Harry was suddenly visible in the mist just beyond the Draco's shoulder. He squinted suspiciously at the Draco on Harry's side, seeming to observe him keenly for a moment.

"You're a Slytherin?" the alternate-world Harry asked, sounding surprised.

Draco sneered. "Of _course_ I am!"

Harry scooted in closer so he was within the view better. "In my world Draco's still Slytherin," Harry explained, drawing the instant attention of his alternate-world counterpart, who scowled at him.

"You! Damn it, Draco - this is why I said not to touch the damn thing! I don't want to talk to _him!_ "

"But I _felt_ something! It was like it was —"

"Calling to you, yeah, _I know_. I've felt it too, but _I_ ignored the damn urge and left the cursed thing under the mattress where it belonged."

"Wait!" Gryffindor-Harry called out, as it appeared that his Slytherin counterpart was about to pull the mirror from his Draco's grasp. "Please! I need your help!"

The Slytherin-Harry paused, eyeing Harry with deep suspicion and, honestly, _loathing_ , before his eyes drifted over to Draco.

"What the hell are _you_ doing there? You _hate_ him," Slytherin-Harry asked Draco.

"Potter came to me, asking for my help," Draco admitted hesitantly, as if he weren't sure if he even wanted to admit he was willing to agree to help in the first place.

Slytherin-Harry looked back at Harry, mildly surprised. "You asked _him_ for… _help?_ Help with _what_ exactly? Aren't you convinced he's just a _filthy Death Eater?"_ he sneered.

Harry heaved a huge sigh and roughly ran his hand through his hair, looking away for a moment. "I've… I've remembered it all now. Well, the bulk of it, I guess."

"Remembered _what,_ exactly?" Slytherin-Harry asked cautiously.

" _Your life,"_ Harry groaned. "Everything. The horcruxes, the false prophecy, Marvolo. All of it. I can see… I can see Dumbledore's _lies_ now. I feel like a complete bloody idiot, and I'm just… I'm _stuck_. I can't keep going down the path I've been on, but I can't just up and join Voldemort here either because he's —"

"Completely bleeding mad. Yeah," the Slytherin-Harry finished.

"So you remember my end of things too?" Harry asked.

His Slytherin-counterpart instantly shifted to a hateful glare. " _Yeah, I remember_ ," he growled. "Do you have any idea how completely you've fucked me up? I feel like my brain got scrambled! It's like I've forgotten how to _be me_."

"Uggh! I know!" Harry exclaimed. "Same here! It's like I don't even know who I am anymore."

"And who's fault is that? Hmm?" Slytherin-Harry asked accusingly. " _You_ were the one who initiated this whole fiasco in the first place! I was perfectly _fine_ with my life before you up and threw a wrench in the whole thing."

"What could I have screwed up for you?" Harry asked, honestly bewildered. "It's not like you're suddenly going to start trusting Dumbledore. _You_ know better."

"You do realize that we're basically at _war_ with the Order over here, right?" the Slytherin-Harry said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Or have you not _remembered_ that far, yet?"

Harry hesitated before frowning and nodded his head slowly. "Yeah… yeah, I know. Marvolo has control over the school right now… right? But Dumbledore is still alive, and he and the Order have been working on some plan to retake it… I think…"

"Yeah, well they already started to move on that, and I had to go up against some of those blasted people, but I couldn't _do it_. I couldn't… I couldn't _fight them_ ," Slytherin-Harry ground out with obvious frustration. "I just kept remembering all this shit from _you_ about… about _caring_ about them. Details about their lives and their families, and things we'd done together, _except that wasn't me!_ And it nearly screwed everything over. I hesitated, at the worst possible time and…" he trailed off, before pulling in a deep breath and letting it back out slowly, closing his eyes and obviously making an effort to calm himself back down.

"People were hurt," he said finally, opening his eyes and glaring at Harry. "People that _actually_ matter to me, not just people who actually matter to _you_."

"I'm sorry," Harry said solemnly. And he meant it too.

Some of the anger seemed to deflate out of the Slytherin-Harry and he sank back in whatever he was sitting in. The alternate-world Draco, who still appeared to be the one holding the mirror adjusted it to keep him in view.

"You said you needed help," the Slytherin-Harry said in a flat, barely interested tone.

"I… I was hoping to ask Marvolo's opinion on something."

Slytherin-Harry's eyebrow arched and a look of mild curiosity worked its way onto his face. "Oh?"

"Over here, the Diary and the Ring have both been destroyed —"

"The _ring too!?_ " Slytherin-Harry exclaimed, sitting up straighter.

Harry grumbled and nodded. "Do you remember Dumbledore's blackened hand?"

His Slytherin-counterpart frowned, looking thoughtful for a moment before a light seemed to flash in his eyes. "He was wearing the ring! Wasn't he? Wait…" his eyes grew even more wide and his mouth hung agape as he sat forward in his seat. "He was cursed! That's what was up with the hand. He put the bloody thing on before disarming the curse! Bloody hell! You're Dumbledore is dying!"

"Wait, what?" Draco exclaimed, looking over at Harry questioningly.

"Have you noticed Dumbledore's hand this year?" Harry asked Draco, focusing on him, rather than the mirror.

"Yeah… I mean, I'd wondered what the hell happened but… are you saying that it's a curse that's _still active?_ I figured it had to have been dark curse damage and that's why he couldn't have it healed properly, but —"

"It's just sealed temporarily," Harry said with a nod. "There wasn't any way to really counter the curse. It was one of Mar— er, the Dark Lord's most powerful curses. He invented the thing. It's a miracle that Dumbledore managed to post-pone his death as much as he has. But there's no way he's going to last past the end of the school year."

"So… so I don't even have to _do_ anything, and he's just gonna drop-dead before the end of the year!?" Draco exclaimed.

Harry's eyes widened with dawning understanding. "Oh! Bloody hell, that's right!"

"What am I missing?" Slytherin-Harry asked, drawing the attention back to the mirror.

"Draco's been marked here," Harry explained.

"What?" the alternate-world Draco exclaimed, turning the mirror more back towards himself and looking stunned.

"Father was given a task and… it didn't go well," Draco explained, haltingly.

"Right, my Harry told me about the Ministry debacle that happened over there and how father had ended up in Azkaban," the alternate-Draco said.

"Well, as punishment, he demanded I take the Mark and then he gave me a rather… difficult assignment. Basically he ordered me to kill Dumbledore before the end of the year."

"So he basically gave him an impossible task so the Dark Lord would feel justified in _punishing_ Draco after he failed," Harry explained tiredly.

The alternate-world Draco's eyes widened and his lips formed an 'O'.

"Well, then it looks like you're ass has been saved," the Slytherin-Harry said with a small laugh. "You can do nothing, and your task will still be fulfilled."

"Yeah…" Draco said with a slowly dawning sense of relief.

"Anyway," Harry said, waving his hands a little, as if trying to clear the air of their little distraction tangent. "So, with the diary and the ring both gone here, that's three-quarters of Marvolo's soul. If they're _really gone_ then… well, I'm fucked. There's no turning my _Voldemort_ into anything resembling your Marvolo, and there's no way I can turn to him as he is right now. The Philosopher's Stone is gone, so I can't even fall back on the Elixir of Life."

"So what you're wanting to know is if there's any chance that those pieces of his soul can be salvaged?" the Slytherin-Harry asked.

"Yeah. Or anything else Marvolo can think of that might give me a chance of helping _my_ Marvolo to recover his senses. He's… he's awful here. And it _hurts_ to remember Marvolo from your world and to _know_ that he's just… _gone_. Or that he never existed here to begin with. I… I know this probably sounds stupid, but I _miss_ him. It's totally messing with me."

Slytherin-Harry nodded his head, looking honestly thoughtful and not at all mocking as Harry had almost expected.

"I'll speak with him. He's aware of the situation already, and… well, to be honest, he did look a bit put-out when I mentioned that the Dark Lord in your world never got his sanity back, and was basically running around so manically obsessed with you and the prophecy that he was getting nothing worthwhile accomplished. I think the idea kind of _irked_ him."

Harry felt a sudden sense of hope swelling in him. It was as if his mind had only just registered that he was _actually_ speaking with his counterpart from the other world and that counterpart had access to Marvolo. He couldn't go to Marvolo himself, but he did still have a connection to him. He still had a way to ask him for help. He wasn't as terminally detached from Marvolo as he had felt before. It was like a shower of relief had just rained down over him and he could _breath_.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, feeling his emotions suddenly build up in his chest, causing a tight hot knot to materialize there. "I… if there's _anything_ he can think of… I'm just so grateful that I even have the opportunity to seek his help. So… thank you for asking for me."

Slytherin-Harry eyed Harry for several long beats before nodding his head, knowingly. "I'll ask. We can plan to meet via the mirror again in one week. How does that sound?"

"So next Monday night?" Harry asked.

"Right."

Harry pulled in a deep breath and heaved a sigh, nodding his head. "Okay. I can do that. Just knowing that he's going to look into it is a relief. Eight o'clock alright? We've got to worry a bit more about curfew here."

The time was agreed upon and the conversation was drawn to a close with the two figures dissolving into the swirling mist, that was then replaced by nothing more than Harry and Draco's actual reflections.

"Merlin, this is completely blowing my mind," Draco said after the pair had sat in silence for several more moments.

Harry coughed out a humorless laugh. "How do you think _I_ feel?"

"But at least we've already made some real progress, right?" Draco offered, and Harry was caught by surprise at Draco's use of _'we'_. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he turned and looked over at the blond.

"Yeah. Yeah, we have. Thank you for that. I mean, I guess I would have tried the mirror again at some point, but you were probably what made the real difference here. I think that my other-self was intentionally ignoring whatever summons the mirror uses to establish the connection, just to sort of spite me."

Draco smirked. "I can't imagine why," he drawled sarcastically.

Harry chuckled somewhat weakly, but he did feel his spirits lightening.

"Merlin, what a turn-around," he said with a smile. "For weeks, I've been dreading what I knew was coming. I didn't know what it was, but it was like there was this big terrifying darkness in the distance that I was both searching for, and desperately trying to avoid. And then the memories all rushed in tonight, and it was like the whole world had turned pitch black, and there was no hope. I felt so… doomed. And now…" Harry stared deeply into Draco's eyes feeling a swelling of relief and gratitude. "Now, you're here, and I feel like there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Like… well, if I can't solve the Marvolo problem, at least there's a glimmer of something else I can try to hold on to."

Draco's brows raised a bit into his forehead before a slight flush tinted his high sharp cheekbones and he seemed to be dueling between the instincts to smile or scowl.

Giving in to the sudden impulse, and deciding that _some_ of his Gryffindor tendencies were still of some value, Harry leaned forward and reached up with one hand, cupping the side of Draco's face while gently pressing his lips against the other's.

Draco sucked in a brief shocked gasp before a humming sound replaced it. One that came off far more pleased than simply surprised.

Harry pulled back slowly after a moment of slow kissing and felt as if his heart were racing faster than a humming bird's. "I've been dreaming of doing that for weeks," he half-whispered.

"I… I think I may have been dreaming of it a bit longer than that," Draco admitted rather reluctantly. "And believe me — I _hated_ myself for it. But… now…"

Harry couldn't help but smile that broke out across his face. "God, things are looking up. I feel a thousand times better than I did an hour ago. I am _so_ glad I came to you."

Draco ducked his head almost bashfully, which Harry realized he found as much adorable as it was odd. Draco seemed to fight off the action quickly enough though, because he looked back up at Harry, his sharp grey eyes drilling into Harry's. "Me too."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Despite the tremendous relief Harry felt the night before, the next morning, and the days following, were awful. Every time Harry would start to get hopeful, wondering if Marvolo would really have some good suggestions on how Harry might go about fixing his own version of the Dark Lord, another part of his brain would remind him exactly what it would mean if he _did_ succeed at such a goal.

It wasn't like he was going to be turning his life into the life of his alternate reality counterpart. His relationship with Draco was looking decidedly up, but that was just one piece of the puzzle. The rest of his other-self's Slytherin friends, and pure-blood friends, all desperately hated him, and despite everything, Harry couldn't bring himself to feel the same ways about certain things that his alternate self felt.

He'd changed, but not _that_ much.

And that all wasn't even the biggest problem. He realized that if he really did manage to 'fix' his Marvolo, and joined him… that would mean turning traitor.

Everyone he loved and cared about and everyone who loved and cared about him, would feel utterly betrayed. They were all counting on him. They were looking to him to somehow miraculously save their world from Voldemort, and here Harry was seriously considering how to go about saving, and even _joining_ him.

It was proving to be quite a mood killer, so of course, Ron and Hermione had both noticed that something was wrong. They both pestered him for details on his meeting with Dumbledore, which only really brought out a foul taste in his mouth as he remembered the tampered memories he'd been shown, and wondered about what _else_ Dumbledore had told him or shown him, that had been _skewed_ to show certain things in a certain light.

More than the betrayal, it was the _shame_ that was really crushing him. The realization that he'd fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker. Dumbledore had completely pulled the wool over his eyes and Harry had not once doubted him. The closest that he'd come to it was his explosive temper-tantrum after the debacle in the Ministry the night Sirius died, and _even then_ Harry still hadn't considered the possibility that Dumbledore was doing anything dishonest _intentionally_.

Manipulation after manipulation. Mind-game after mind-game. Harry was just so _so_ sick of it. But then again… he'd been good at it. He'd been a _fantastic_ liar. He'd gotten so good at the _Slytherin Game_ that he probably could have become top-dog even _without_ having basically been the adopted son of the Dark Lord. He could maneuver a person into a position that most benefited Harry, while leading them to believe it was really for _their_ benefit… he could give the most _convincing_ lies, totally straight-faced…

When Harry actually thought about it, he didn't want to be _that_ person any more than he wanted to be the old Gryffindor-him who was so gullible that Dumbledore had totally fooled him.

Maybe… maybe it was better this way. He told himself that several times. He could see the flaws in both versions of himself far more clearly now, and he realized he didn't really like _either_ of them. The Gryffindor-him to was too stuck in the moment; incapable of actually planning out _anything_ , and with no self-motivation to improve himself without someone else kicking his arse in gear. The Gryffindor-him was too trusting. And honestly a bit _too_ loyal. Loyal-to-a-fault, they call it. Looking back, Harry still couldn't believe he'd taken Ron back as a friend after what he'd done during the first task of the Tournament in fourth year. That was a massive betrayal. And Ron had been a dead-weight dragging Harry down for years. That outburst back at the start of term where Hermione had railed on Ron for being too lazy with his school work, and turned on Harry for dumbing himself down to avoid triggering Ron's insecurities… well, she was right. Harry _had_ avoided doing things that might show Ron up too much in their lessons. He _had_ actively avoided making Ron feel insecure. Plus it was just so much _easier_ to give in and goof around when you had a friend goading you into it…

This line of thought brought with it a river of guilt, as he thing realized just how awful he was being to his best friend who _had_ stuck by him for most of the toughest and most trying times Harry had faced. Sure, Ron had bailed on Harry when his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, but as soon as he'd seen the danger Harry was in after that blasted battle with the dragon, he'd changed his tune and apologized.

This sort of back and forth filled Harry's head _constantly_ , and it left him sullen and touchy. He'd snapped at both Ron and Hermione at various times, as they'd tried pestering him for details on the meeting, and on what exactly had his panties in such a bunch.

The worst was one time on Wednesday during lunch when Hermione had been pushing Harry's buttons just a bit too far, too often, that he caught himself mere _seconds_ away from using the word _mudblood_.

He'd caught himself beforehand though. The fact that he'd even _thought_ it was enough to horrify himself, and he'd stood right up, abandoning his meal, and left.

He needed air.

Harry found himself outside, even though it was miserably cold. But at least the wind was still, and just as he'd found himself a nice stretch of castle wall and leaned against it, trying to clear his mind, a sliver of sunlight broke through what had been a solid sheet of gray overcast. The clouds had parted just enough that a small patch of blue sky could be seen beyond them, and Harry stared up into that sky and heaved a heavy sigh.

"You're a mess," a voice came from just beyond where Harry had perched himself against the wall. Harry turned his head and was surprised to see Draco making his way towards him.

"Draco!" Harry exclaimed and looked around quickly to check for any observers.

There were none. No one else was stupid enough to come outside right then. The weather had been abysmal for days, and as it was, lunch had only started some ten minutes earlier.

"What's up with you?" Draco asked as he came over and leaned against the patch of wall right next to Harry and looked at him curiously.

Harry couldn't put words to how startlingly strange, and yet oddly familiar it was to be next to Draco like this. They hadn't spoken since Harry had gotten Draco back down to the dungeons using his invisibility cloak, Monday night.

"I… I don't know," Harry grumbled and shrugged. "I'm just a mess, that's all. I… I was a very different person in the other world, and the Gryffindor-me would _not_ have liked him at all. The Slytherin-me wouldn't have like the Gryffindor-me. And now I'm _both of them_ crammed into one person, and it's like I'm constantly at war with myself. Finding a middle-ground is… complicated. Plus… it's like, as soon as I let myself get hopeful or optimistic about the idea of… uhm… _you know_ … I'm suddenly reminded that succeeding in _that_ means betraying everyone I've ever cared about. In times like that I'm… I'm just not sure I can do it."

Draco hummed in understanding, nodding his head slowly and keenly observing Harry. "This is still really fascinating to me."

Harry snorted and grinned despite himself. "I'm glad you're getting something out of my massive discomfort."

Draco shrugged unapologetically.

"I'd be more careful about how you act around your friends, if I were you," Draco send a few silent moments later.

Harry turned and looked at him worriedly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, they know about this mirror thing, right?"

Harry nodded.

"And they know that it's _Slytherin_ memoriesthat are affecting you. And clearly, these memories are affecting your behavior, because it's the only obvious reasoning for why you're acting like a manic nutjob. If they get _too_ worried, I wouldn't put it past _either_ of them to skip you all together and go straight to Dumbledore with their concerns. _Especially_ Granger. She'd convince herself that she was doing it to _help you_ or some such rot."

Harry groaned, let his head fall forward limply and then nodded it bleakly. "You're right. Honestly, she's been pestering me for weeks to talk to Dumbledore about _what happened_. The fact that I've gotten more and more insistent in my refusal is probably making her even more worried. I wouldn't be surprised if she goes to him soon, anyway."

"You need to convince them that you're fine," Draco said firmly. "You need to get your shit together, Potter, or else this is all gonna come falling down on your head before you've made any progress in getting alternative options lined up."

"Alternate options," Harry echoed with a cynical snort.

"Well, if what you say it true, then Dumbledore basically wants to make sure you end up dead. He just wants to use you first, and wait to have you die until it's most convenient."

Harry groaned and his head fell limply forward again. "I think he wants to use me to find the horcruxes for him. Probably intends to make it look like some great quest that I have to take up in his stead, once he finally succumbs to the curse and kicks it."

"Right. So his plan right now, is for you to do all the dirty work, and then _die_. He's laying this foundation so that his plan will continue to work, even after he dies. But what's he going to do if it suddenly looks like his plan isn't going to work after all? He's _dying_ Potter. He's going to be desperate. If he gets even a _whiff_ of things going foul, he's probably going to take care of that last horcrux he has access to while he's still around to take care of it."

Harry looked over at Draco, speculatively. "You think he'd actually try to kill me?"

"I think he'd try to set it up so someone or something else did. He'd probably arrange it so you'd end up face-to-face with the Dark Lord again, but this time the old goat would _fail to save you_."

Harry snorted bitterly. "You're probably right."

"All the more reason to make some progress on this goal of yours to fix the Dark Lord."

"Which might not even _be possible,"_ Harry pointed out.

"I was thinking though…" Draco began slowly before turning his silver-grey eyes full on Harry. "You said that in the other world that being on the Elixir of Life from that Philosopher's Stone healed him whole, so long as he was on it, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well.. there's always _that_. If his soul really is destroyed beyond repair, we can at least get him sane _while he's on the elixir._ "

"But the Stone was destroyed," Harry argued shaking his head.

"Says who? Did you _see_ it get destroyed?" Draco asked pointedly.

Harry frowned and hummed in agreement. "Good point. Honestly, I thought it was a bit mental that so much trouble was gone to to _protest_ the blasted thing, just to end up destroying it, instead of giving it back to Nicholas Flamel. Dumbledore _said_ that Flamel had enough of the Elixir left to put his 'affairs in order' and not to worry about him… if we assume that the stone really was destroyed, _which looking back, it probably wasn't_ , there's still a slim chance that Flamel might still be around and might still have some elixir left."

"More likely that he's just still got the stupid stone," Draco drawled.

"Yeah… yeah, he probably does."

"So there's another fall-back option. If the Dark Lord's soul really is toast, then we can go with trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone instead."

Harry snorted. "You say that like it'd be an easy thing. Plus, even Marvolo from the other world _hated_ the idea of being dependent upon the Elixir just to remain sane."

"So maybe that'll be incentive enough for _our_ Dark Lord to start brainstorming on some solutions of his own. Getting him sane in the first place is going to be the hardest part. After that, it sounds like he'd work towards doing the rest of his own free will. This other Dark Lord of yours did, anyway."

"You're really okay with doing all of this _scheming_ against _The Dark Lord?"_ Harry asked curiously, looking over at Draco.

Draco make a small scoffing sound in his throat. "I… I'm terrified of him to be honest. I remember father talking about him when I was a child, making him sound like the most amazing, powerful, and genius wizard ever to live. Then I actually _meet_ the man and…"

"Significant let down," Harry offered.

Draco snorted. "To put it mildly. But it sounds like the version that my father spoke of, and the version that _you_ remember from this other world, might have a lot more in common than the broken version we're stuck with now. If what you're doing really has a chance of fixing that, then I _have_ to do this. The creature currently running things is basically out to make my life, and my families lives, absolutely miserable. This is self-preservation, Potter."

Harry found himself silently observing Draco for several moments after that. Long enough, in fact that it was clearly making Draco uncomfortable.

"What?" he snapped.

"I just… you seem a lot more comfortable talking to me today is all. I was kind of marveling in that…"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I've been doing a lot of thinking, that's all. Which brings me to another matter. I'm going to be spending the evening in the Room of Requirement tonight working on… my task."

"You're task?" Harry echoed slightly confused. "But I thought your task was just to… er, kill someone whose dying _anyway_."

"That's only _half_ my task. The other half is giving me just as much trouble, to be honest. I suppose a second set of eyes might be of some value. And you _did_ suggest that the two of us might make efforts to… get to know each other," Draco said, looking mildly embarrassed.

Harry found himself grinning widely. Draco noticed and a pink flush seemed to take over his cheeks. Clearly frustrated with his own embarrassment, Draco switched to an annoyed scowl and glared at Harry.

This honestly _familiar_ behavior only made Harry's grin grow wider. It was comfortable in the familiarity. But Harry had to keep reminding himself that this Draco had never known anything but antagonism between the two of them and he still had to tread carefully.

"I'd love to join you. And hopefully I'll be able to help in _some_ way. I'll take a look at whatever it is you're doing, anyway. How do you want to set this up? Will you have Vince or Greg guarding the door again?"

"Not tonight. But it's still not a good idea for the two of us to show up at exactly the same time. The room I'm going to summon is ' _a room to hide things in'._ Got it?"

Harry's eyes widened and he blinked. "A room to hide things in?" he echoed.

"Yeah."

"That's where one of the Dark Lord's horcruxes is hidden! What are you doing _in there?!_ "

Draco's eyes widened dramatically. "Come again?"

"Merlin," Harry exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "It's a wonder that anyone can ever use that room under the assumption that no one else has or ever will use it. I mean, it's the most cluttered monstrous mess imaginable, so it's _obvious_ that it's been used by other people. And what more common a request could you imagine other than a place to hide shit?"

"So… you're saying that _the Dark Lord_ used that same room to hide one of his… soul vessel things?" Draco asked, his voice cracking almost comically at one point.

"Yeah. I know where it is. Honestly, this is a good opportunity to get it anyway. I'm gonna need to collect the remaining in-tact horcruxes anyway, just so I can try to work out what I might be able to do to get them back into the Dark Lord. I should have asked my Slytherin-counterpart to ask Marvolo where they are all, actually. I honestly don't know where the rest are located."

"That does sound like an essential detail that you're missing," Draco drawled.

Harry sighed and nodded. "I should make a list of all the things I need to ask Marvolo so I can ask the other me next Monday. Anyway, lunch is going to end soon and Ron and Hermione are bound to come looking for me. What time do you want to meet tonight?"

"I'm skipping dinner," Draco said with a rather helpless shrug. "If I can't manage this, it won't matter if Dumbledore kicks the bucket on his own by June. I'm still as good as dead."

"Unless we succeed in what I'm doing," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, but at the moment, I have no idea how good or poor our chances are of that, are. Until I _do_ , I'm going to keep working on _my_ problem."

Harry nodded. "Well, I'll see if I can come up with an excuse to get away from Ron and Hermione tonight. I still doubt I'll make it there until after dinner, though."

"You could tell them you ran into Snape in the corridor and managed to piss him off so he gave you a detention tonight. Sounds like a very believable set of events."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, it does. I'll probably use that. But Hermione _is_ a Prefect and she could always look up and confirm if it were true."

"Weasley is a Prefect too," Draco pointed out, smirking in amusement.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron is only barely a Prefect, in that he has the bloody badge pinned to his robes. The last time he took a Prefect duty seriously, it involved dolling out punishment to firsties who were buying his brothers' banned products, and the only reason he did that was so that he could _confiscate_ the products for himself."

Draco snickered. "Well, anyway, I'll see you tonight."

"See you after dinner," Harry confirmed, pushing himself up off the wall and glancing back up at the sky. The spot of blue was growing smaller again as another thick blanket of grey clouds slowly rolled in.

Draco pushed off as well, turned, and walked away without another word. Harry watched him go, trudging through the sodden ground and back towards the front entrance. Harry waited several minutes before following behind and making his way back through the castle to find his Gryffindor friends and try to repair some of the damage he'd been dealing the last few days.

— —

The excuse about getting a detention from Snape was taken without question or doubt from Harry's friends, so Harry was able to rush through his dinner and rush off without any real complications.

Harry had made efforts to seem more normal, but he knew a few hours of _more normal_ wouldn't be enough to counteract the days of moodiness and a short temper. Not to mention he still hadn't given either of them a clear answer as to what happened Monday that had affected him so drastically.

He knew that he was going to have to dip into those Slytherin talents he remembered, and start putting up a front with them. However the idea left a rather foul taste in his mouth. It was like it was the first step down a very shaky path that most likely ended with total betrayal of his friends, and being hated and loathed by everyone Harry cared about.

It wasn't exactly an appealing idea.

He tried to shove those ideas out of his mind and focused instead on making his way to the Room of Requirement.

He walked past the blank stretch of wall three times thinking about needing a room to hide things, and on the third pass the door appeared. Harry pushed his way inside and peered around for any signs that Draco was already in there. He was quickly greeted with the sight of Draco hunched down next to a large cabinet, some distance from the entrance in a small area that had been cleared of clutter.

Draco sat up straighter and turned, looking over his shoulder in Harry's direction. Their eyes met and Draco gave him a curt nod of his head, acknowledging Harry, but then instantly turned back to whatever he was doing.

Harry made his way through a short winding path of clear floorspace until he came upon Draco and whatever he was doing. Harry looked at the cabinet, as it became instantly obvious that this was the object Draco's efforts were focused on. Harry quickly realized it was familiar.

"Hey, isn't there another one of these in…" his voice trailed off as his brain suddenly supplied some more details about the object. "It's a vanishing cabinet," he said with dawning understanding in his voice. "He wants you to open up some sort of secret entrance so he can get inside the castle's wards."

Draco heaved a tired sigh and sat upright, sitting on his feet as he had been crouching over the back of it, looking to examine something along the back of the base.

"Yes. He wants a way to get Death Eaters into the school."

Harry's expression hardened. "That would be a slaughter."

Draco sighed again. "I'd rather not think about that," he muttered.

"So what's wrong with it?" Harry asked crouching down beside Draco, and leaving the previous subject abandoned for a time being.

Draco looked grateful that the consequences of succeeding were being dropped in favor of focusing on just fixing it.

"Everything," Draco groused. "It doesn't work. I don't know why. Peeves dropped the blasted thing in the entrance hall once, to distract Filch from something else… I didn't really get any details. I've tried to mend it, but I honestly don't know what I'm doing. Troubleshooting an faulty enchanted object is hard enough when you have some idea how its supposed to work, but this thing is so complicated and touchy…" he heaved a defeated-sounding groan and seemed to sink in on himself.

"Hmmm…" Harry hummed thoughtfully and began looking around it. "You said it was dropped?"

"Yeah. It was cracked and splintered in several places, but I mended all of that. I think that there's some place where the runes were disrupted by the damage, and my mending the damage didn't fix the enchanting inscription, or worse, fixed them _wrong_. I can't even be sure _where_ the damage might be at this point."

"Where all have you found rune inscriptions?" Harry asked.

"There's some around the base here - that's what I've been going over the last couple times I came in here. But it's such a pain because I have to translate the bloody runes first and then cross reference that against examples of their use for any signs that something has been messed up or distorted. But there's more runes all along the inside of the thing too. Along the door frame, along the door itself, along the rear-wall on the inside and _all over_ the floor in a spiral. And I've got to be especially careful while I work on the inside. If the door closes while I'm in there, I could end up trapped. I heard tell of someone else getting trapped in the blasted thing and finding himself stuck in a black abyss for days before he finally managed to panic enough to apparate himself out, even though he'd never learned to apparate."

"Blimey," Harry muttered, grimacing. "Right. No going inside and closing the door. Gotcha. Well… I'm pretty good with runes, so I might be able to speed along the translation."

"You? Good with _runes?!"_ Malfoy exclaimed in comical disbelief.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Slytherin-me's better at school, remember? He took Runes and he was bloody brilliant at it."

Draco's eyes widened with sudden understanding, and a flash of hope. "I'd forgotten about that," he muttered. "I'd been fairly convinced that you wouldn't be much help in here, but maybe I was wrong."

"If you were so sure I'd be useless, then why'd you invite me?" Harry asked with a small laugh.

Draco shrugged and tried to look casual and disinterested. "You were the one that suggested hanging out together in here," he muttered defensively.

Harry smiled widely feeling another warm rush flood him. He reached out and placed his hand over Draco's, where it rested on the floor, and gave it a small squeeze. Draco seemed entirely startled by this and looked down at their joined hands with an astonished look on his face. His cheeks quickly pinked and he scowled at his own embarrassment, but made no effort to pull his hand away. It was wonderfully encouraging and Harry rubbed his thumb over the top of Draco's hand for several moments before removing his hand and turning his focus back onto the cupboard.

"So what have you got so far?"

—

The two worked in the Room of Requirement for the next few hours, starting with Harry just going over and double-checking Draco's attempts to translate, and actually managing to find two different spots in the run inscription where the runes had become distorted enough to look like a different rune or like no rune at all. Harry was very confident of what the first one was _supposed_ to be and made the correction himself right then. The second one he had two different candidates and decided he needed to look up their uses a bit more closely before he committed to one or the other.

He made a mental note to look it up in one of the enchanting rune dictionaries in the library the next day. Draco's spirits raised dramatically over the course of their work and Harry could see a fire in his eyes that hadn't been there all term. It was hope where there had once been nothing but hopelessness. Harry knew the feeling well.

Thanks to his gradually improved spirits, Draco had slowly opened up more and more as the evening passed. Harry asked questions and Draco answered and asked more questions back. Draco clearly found it exceedingly _weird_ when he'd come across some story or anecdote from his childhood just to discover that Harry _already knew it_ , but seemed to be adjusting well enough.

Eventually they realized it was past curfew and they had no choice but to call it quits. Harry offered to use his invisibility cloak to assist Draco in getting back down to the dungeons but Draco actually refused this time.

"It's only half past nine, Potter. I'm a _Prefect_ remember? It's not a big deal if I'm out this late. If Filch comes by I can just say I'm doing rounds, and Snape would cover for me."

Harry frowned slightly. "How much does Snape know about what you're doing?"

"You mean like, my assignment, or how I'm attempting to tackle it?"

"Both."

Draco heaved a bit of a sigh and twisted up his mouth in a small pout for a moment. Harry found it adorable and something in his face must have said as much since Draco seemed to notice and gave Harry a mild glare before pressing on. "He seems to know what I've been assigned, though he's _not supposed to know_. But that's Severus for you. He's pestered me a few times so far this term to _let him help me_ , but I've refused every offer. As far as I'm aware, he has no idea what I'm specifically up to."

Harry hummed and nodded his head. "Keep it that way."

"I intend to," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"So erm… I guess this is goodnight," Harry said, suddenly feeling awkward. The pair were now standing at the door to the Room of Requirement, Harry with his invisibility cloak over his arm, and Draco holding his rucksack slung over one shoulder.

"Mmm… looks like it. Uhm… when do you think you could slip away and do this again?"

"Hmm… well I've got Quidditch practice tomorrow night, so I won't be able to manage it then. Are there any other times that you slip in here, like free periods?"

"Meals and free periods," Draco said with a sigh and a nod of his head.

"I'd noticed you'd been skipping a lot of meals lately."

"Yeah… but it's not terribly predictable or pre-planned. Basically I come in whenever I can manage some time and a reasonable excuse."

"That makes it difficult to plan ahead…" Harry muttered. "Hey, maybe we could work something like the protean-charmed galleons that Hermione used for the DA last year!"

"The what?"

"For the DA meetings — we couldn't really plan ahead very well, since we couldn't risk Umbridge getting word ahead of time. Hermione took a bunch of gold galleons and charmed them so that anything modified on one of them was repeated across the rest. That way we could change one galleon with the details of the next meeting, and everyone else's galleons would update with the info. They got warm when the change happened too, to notify everyone that they should check them."

"Huh…" Draco made a mildly impressed sort of noise in his throat. "I suppose we could work something like that."

"I'll charm a pair of objects and get one to you when I can," Harry said, feeling pleased with the plan, and also feeling rather pleased realizing he knew exactly how to do the charming himself. Hermione had been entirely responsible for the galleons used by the DA.

"Sounds good Potter. Anyway, we should call this. If it gets too much later even I can't get past Filch without _some_ hassle."

"Alright. Erm… Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Do…" Harry hesitated and chewed on his lip a moment, debating how he wanted to say what was on his mind. "Do you mind me calling you Draco?"

"What makes you ask that?" Draco asked hesitantly, looking guarded.

"It's just… I mean, you can call me Harry… _if you want_. You don't have to… I just… you know…" Harry mumbled, feeling stupid and insecure.

"Harry…" Draco said, as if he were testing the word out on his tongue. "Might take some getting used to."

"That's fine. Do whichever you want. Just… you know, if it bothers you that I keep calling you Draco, feel free to tell me off for it. It's just habit right now, and I understand that you never told me I could —"

"It's fine," Draco cut him off sharply, looking away, as if he were afraid he'd be exposing some sort of inappropriate emotion if he were to actually make eye contact.

Harry smiled softly. "Thanks."

The pair finally parted ways and Harry made his way back to Gryffindor Tower under his invisibility cloak. Back in the common room Ron griped that it was entirely unreasonable for Snape to have kept him for so long, and Hermione expressed concerns that Harry might fall behind on classwork if he weren't careful, but Harry managed to brush off their concerns without coming off like the ass he'd been most often lately. He put up a rather convincing front, in fact, and as he went to bed that night he found he was slightly unsettled by how easy it was becoming to lie to his friends.

— —

Harry actually managed to drop in on the Room of Requirement after Quidditch practice the next evening and found Draco there working. He didn't have a lot of time to stick around, as he'd told Ron he was staying behind to clean up and make a few plans for the next practice, and knew that would only buy him so much time. But he did use the time to deliver the objects he had charmed earlier that afternoon.

"I thought you said you wouldn't make it tonight?" Draco said distractedly as he crouched down by the left side of the front door frame, inspecting it intently and then making notes on the parchment on the floor beside him.

"Managed to wrap things up a bit early and sent everyone off, saying I'd stay behind a bit to pick up and then work on some game plans. Ron wanted to hang around, but I reminded him about this essay we've got due in Transfiguration tomorrow and I don't think he's even started it. I reminded him that if he took too long, Hermione would go to bed and refuse to help him, so he bailed."

Draco snorted but remained focused on his efforts transcribing the runes.

"I'm afraid I can't stay long but I thought I'd come by and give you the item I did the protean charm on," Harry said, walking over and crouching down next to Draco. The blond let out a sigh and sat back in a more relaxed pose, turning his attention onto Harry now.

"Is it just a galleon? Because I'm not convinced I wouldn't just misplace a galleon," Draco said warningly.

"No, not a galleon. I kind of had the same worry, honestly. No, I actually wanted something that I could keep on me all the time and also wanted something that actually touched my skin so I'd feel the warmth right away if it was activated. I figure that we'll probably be doing these meetings with pretty short notice, and I'd hate to miss a chance just because I had the object in my pocket and didn't feel it activate."

Draco nodded, seeming to agree. "So what is it?"

"Er… a clock-face pendant. So, a necklace. Will that be okay? I mean, you don't actually have to wear it — you could always just keep it in your pocket, so it'd be more like a tiny pocket watch, I just felt like it would be the most likely thing to work for me."

"I don't have any problem with a pendent, so long as it doesn't look stupid. It's not like anyone is likely to see it beneath my shirt anyway."

Harry grinned, relieved that Draco agreed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the two necklaces he'd charmed. They were identical, each on a fairly long golden chain. The pendant itself was about the size of a sickle in total and looked like a crescent moon with a simple round clock pinched in the center. There was a gap between the clock and the crescent, with only the tips contacting the clock.

Draco accepted one of them and found that the clock face actually could spin on it's axis in the crescent.

"Cool design," he commented as he spun the clock face so that the back was exposed. Engraved there were the words 'Hidden Things'.

"It's pretty straight forward," Harry began to explain as he held his up so that it was next to Draco's. He tapped the watch face with his wand and the hands spun around to say 5 o'clock, where they remained stationary. Then he flipped his to the back, tapped it at the inscription and changed it to 'Astronomy Tower'. The changes instantly appeared on Draco's watch.

"I can feel it getting warm," Draco observed. "So the inscription on the back gives any details like location, or like, what to use to get into the Room of Requirement, while the time on the front is just when to meet."

"Right," Harry said with a sharp nod of his head.

"Where'd you get the necklaces? Its not like you had time to order them or get down to Hogsmeade."

"I conjured them."

Draco gave him a skeptical look. "You conjured them? Are you sure they're gonna stick around?"

"Yes!" Harry said defensively. "I'm perfectly capable of a permanent conjuration. Bloody hell, I know I was a lazy arse before all this, but I was never magically _weak_."

The corner of Draco's mouth turned up in an amused smirk. "Just riling you up."

Harry snorted mildly and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, like I said, I can't stick around long. This good for you? I could always make any adjustments you want."

"No, this is good. Thanks Potter…. er… Harry." Draco's cheeks pinked faintly and he looked away uncomfortably. Harry didn't worry about it though. He knew Draco well enough to read exactly what was going on in that head of his. Draco was _pleased_. At the same time, he was afraid of showing that. When you let people see you happy and enjoying something, you're exposing a weakness. All they have to do to hurt you is to take that thing away from you.

Draco still didn't _trust_ that all of this wasn't going to blow-up on him, but he was giving it an honest chance, which was a thousand-times more than Harry had ever dared hope for. Harry didn't want to risk or ruin anything by pushing too much, but also knew he wanted to try and encourage Draco to feel more comfortable… more… safe. He just wasn't sure how to do that.

Harry had a tremendous urge to kiss the blond before going, but couldn't actually settle on whether or not that was a good idea, or a bad one. They'd kissed twice that first night in the Room of Requirement, but hadn't done it since.

Letting a little of his Gryffindor rashness win out, Harry leaned forward and kissed Draco no the cheek, hoping that would be the least threatening or intimidating.

It was nothing more than a quick peck, but it filled Harry's stomach with a rush of butterflies and he pulled back with what he knew was a stupid grin. Draco's eyes bugged out and he looked at Harry with a clearly startled expression.

"What was that for?"

Harry ducked his head and shrugged. "Just… because."

Draco still looked a bit dumbstruck for a moment but then seemed to gather himself and push forth a front. "Well… it was entirely insufficient," he drawled in a forced haughty tone. "Honestly, Potter, I've come to expect better from you."

Harry smiled and laughed, leaning forward again but this time reaching out one hand that buried itself in the hair on the back of Draco's head, and then going in for a much more proper kiss on the _lips_ this time.

Draco was a bit more prepared this time and was only frozen and tense for the first few seconds of the kiss before Harry felt the other boy relax and actually press forward some on his own.

Harry knew they weren't kissing for long, but it was wonderful while it lasted. Slowly he pulled back, basking in the feel and the momentary ability to forget about everything else and just think about this _one thing_ that was absolutely going great. No part of him felt conflicted over his pursuit of Draco. Not a one. Even knowing that no one else in his life would be okay with it - it didn't matter. _This one thing_ he was perfectly confident that he wanted.

Harry pulled in a deep calming breath and heard and felt as Draco did the same. He met the other teens eyes and could see that there _was_ conflict _there_.

"I cannot believe how much everything has changed in just a few days," Draco whispered, slowly shaking his head in a sort of stunned bewilderment.

"Good-changed or…?" Harry said, letting the question hang in the air.

Draco hesitated, appearing to think for several beats before responding. "Good… I think. Probably. I mean… not even talking about this… _thing_ that's happening between the two of us, just thinking about the potential for what's happening with the Dark Lord and my whole life in general… I mean, it looked so _hopeless_ before. He's _so angry_ with father. And I was starting to see that I was just going to end up being his punching bag if a miracle didn't happen. But then this…" he made a helpless sort of gesture in Harry's direction.

"So it's just about the Dark Lord?"

"No… not _just_. I… I mean, _never in a million years_ did I think that anything could come from the… _attraction_ I felt for you. It was just physical, you know? That's what I told myself, I suppose. And there was no question that we absolutely hated each other. _All sorts_ of things about you drive me mad, but at this point I don't know how many of those things are even still around. In any case, it didn't _matter_ if I… felt _attracted_ to certain… things…" Draco's speech was halted and awkward, and it was obvious that he was fighting against his own instincts in order to actually get _any_ of this out. Harry could see how uncomfortable the blond was making any of these admissions.

"Did…" Draco began hesitantly a moment later, looking conflicted. "Did _you_ ever feel…" he trailed off and scowled, looking away.

"Did I ever feel attracted to you before all this?" Harry offered up for him.

Draco sighed and took on a look of angry defeat as he looked at some random piece of junk some distance to his left.

"I'm not really sure, to be honest," Harry said slowly. "I was _really_ in denial about being gay. Like, super-blind full-on denial. I didn't even admit to myself that I was attracted to Cedric in fourth year, even when it _seriously_ messed me up the summer after I saw him killed. I mean, I was having _dreams_ and nightmares about him dying, and it wasn't just because of the trauma of watching someone die, it was because of _who_ died as well. But I wouldn't admit to myself that any part of my feelings towards him had been sort of romantic in nature."

Harry sighed and leaned back where he sat, getting a bit more comfortable. "The problem I'm having is that I still keep coming up against things that feel _incredibly real_ , and then realizing after the fact that it's one of _the other me's_ memories. It's not _mine_. That's what most of my thoughts and feelings around you _are_ now. It's like, the way he felt about his Draco was _so strong_ that it's virtually overwritten anything I felt about you before all this. I honestly have trouble imagining hating you at all, but logically, I definitely _know_ that I did. I can remember specific incidences, and _almost_ dredge up some faint recollection of the loathing, but it just… doesn't have the impact that I know it must of before I got all these memories crammed in my head."

"How did our counterparts in this other world become romantically involved in the first place?" Draco asked, getting a bit more comfortable where he sat as well, and turning to better face Harry.

"It was kind of gradual, really. I mean, we were really close since pretty early on in first year. Um… is it going to weird you out if I keep talking about them by saying 'we'? Because I just can't seem to wrap my head around talking about it any other way."

Draco shrugged. "Whatever is fine."

"Right. Well, Lucius had advised you to try and get close to me before even going to Hogwarts, just in case I turned out to be the next big thing, you know?"

Draco snorted and looked skywards. "I remember that. There were a lot of people who believed there was a chance that you'd turn out to be the next Dark Lord, and that's why you had the power to defeat the last one. Of course, it became obvious rather quickly that was _not_ the case."

"Yeah, well, I guess the people in the other world didn't find that conclusion quite as obvious. The second I was sorted into Slytherin _everyone_ was suspicious of me. Even a lot of the Slytherins were cautious around me that first year. They were all sizing me up, you know? But you got close right away, and I was grateful for someone who was so eager to be my friend. I mean, it didn't take me super-long to comprehend the fact that you'd buddied up to me because of what your father had said, but we kind of grew past that pretty quickly. I think even _you_ were surprised by the fact that you came to genuinely like me."

"It _is_ actually kind of weird to hear you talk about _me_ like it was something that _I_ did," Draco admitted and Harry grimaced.

"Yeah… I'm just not sure how else to say it. Sorry."

Draco waved his hand dismissively. "It's fine."

"Anyway, we were practically connected at the hip. You made it your _duty_ to educate me on the wizarding world and bring me up to speed on all of the things I missed out on or didn't understand thanks to growing up with the fucking muggles. I think that by third year I started to understand that I wasn't attracted to girls the way the other guys were, and that realization mostly came from the fact that I was really starting to see _you_ in a new light. It freaked me out at first, because I was convinced that it would totally screw up our relationship dynamic if I developed some stupid crush on my best mate. I tried to ignore it for a long time and focused instead on my private studies with Marvolo.

"Fourth year though, _you_ started flirting with _me_ ," Harry continued and cracked a smile, looking off with unfocused eyes as if he were remembering something specific. Then, totally unexpectedly, you asked me to be your date to the Yule Ball. I was utterly stunned. I couldn't believe you'd be willing to make such a public admission — you know, coming right out and just saying ' _Yeah, I'm gay. So what? Fuck off.'"_ Harry chuckled. "I'm sure the only reason Lucius didn't blow a gasket was because the bloke you fancied was _me_ , and the Dark Lord had already sort of _claimed me_ as his protege."

"Merlin, it's insane to even _imagine_ things being so different," Draco marveled. "I… I sort of wish things had gone that way _here_."

Harry let out a humorless snort. "Me too," he muttered in a quiet bitter tone before heaving a very heavy sigh and pushing the weight away. "But it didn't. I need to figure out how to make the best of what I've got to work with here. Plus… I don't know… there are things about the other me that I'm not totally keen on. It's not like I wish I could wipe away the Gryffindor-me all together and just be the other guy completely. He had some legit personality problems that the Gryffindor-me would have _hated_. I think my real struggle is going to be finding a middle-ground. Some place where I can be enough of both versions to be happy, but not overly-disgust myself in any area. Like… I'm _kind of_ sure that Gryffindor-me would have gotten pretty pissy at my current attitude towards muggles. But I just can't quite find it in me to… be tolerant, I suppose. I really, _really_ loath them. But I know that part of me is really bothered by that. But I can't make it go away either."

"But don't get me wrong here," Harry pressed on, more confident. "I have _no problems_ with muggleborn. Even the Slytherin-me was just _indifferent_ on the matter. Even _Marvolo_ didn't _really_ care about it — not when he was sane anyway. When he finally cracked, he started believing his own rhetoric and then pursued it in a crazed zeal, but once his mind was back, he said he looked at his own behavior and was horrified by how pointless and counterproductive it was towards his real overarching goals."

"You're saying that the Dark Lord _doesn't_ think that the mudbloods are inferior?!" Draco exclaimed with a disbelieving bark of a laugh.

"I'm saying exactly that — or at least, he didn't used to, and in the other world he didn't anymore. Draco, you might not realize this, but for the first two years he attended Hogwarts, the majority of the school was convinced that _he_ was a mudblood. He was an orphan and had no idea who his parents were. For all he knew, he _was_ a mudblood. It wasn't until he first learned about what a parselmouth was, and what it meant that he was one, that he first started to suspect his ancestry. And even then, he didn't fully disclose that information to the school as a whole. He only told a select group of _trusted_ friends the truth. I mean, for their first few years at Hogwarts, _your grandfather_ used to call him Mudblood every day to his face, just to try and rile him up, and he was hardly the only one."

Draco's eyes widened with comical horror.

"Thinking about it now, I wouldn't be surprised if some of the _zeal_ in his present punishments of you and Lucius isn't at least partially tied back to his shit-relationship with your grandfather, Abraxas."

Draco rolled his eyes and threw his hands up dramatically. "Great. Now I'm suffering for my _grandfather's_ sins as well as my father's."

"In any case, he always told me that as far as he was concerned, _magic_ was might. Magic was superior, and muggle was _inferior_. Muggleborn may have a crappier pedigree, but they still _have magic_. If anything, it's a sign that they were chosen to be something _better_ than what they came from. It's an opportunity to make themselves something _more,_ but that also means that if they throw that opportunity away, then Marvolo had utterly no respect for them. The real issue isn't trying to rid ourselves of _inferior_ muggleborn, but to institute a rigid, unyielding wall between the _muggles_ and us. Muggleborn are fine, but they need to be willing to sever ties to their old world if they want to be part of _ours_. That's the only real way to protect ourselves from them for as long as possible while we build up strength and numbers."

Draco looked at Harry with wide, mildly surprised eyes. "Is this something you're saying that _you_ agree with now?" he asked, sounding honestly curious.

Harry opened his mouth, but it floundered and he paused to frown thoughtfully. "I… Merlin… well, honestly, my first instinct was to just say _yes_. I… I really sort of _do_. But there's also an undeniable _second_ instinct that's kind of revolted by the idea and I'm having a hard time figuring out _why_ I should be revolted by it. But I _know_ the old me would be. It's really kind of freaking me out that I can't remember why that would have bothered me before, but also know that it definitely _would have_ …"

"You are _really_ messed up in the head."

Harry snorted. "Really? You think?" Harry asked, sarcastically."

Draco snickered lightly before looking serious again. "I suppose I can imagine the logic in some of what you've said, but I still have trouble imagining the Dark Lord not actually considering _muggleborn_ inferior to us purebloods."

"Ahem. Halfblood — remember?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, fine, fine. But your _half_ pureblood, and with a very good pedigree at that, so you're still close-ish, I guess. I mean, there are some that have multiple generations of breeding with muggleborn, or _Merlin-forbid_ , _muggles."_ Draco made a gagging motion that made Harry roll his eyes, but still grin slightly in amusement at the blond's antics.

"Yeah, well as far as some sense of biological superiority or inferiority, he honestly thought that was mostly rubbish and it was our magical core that really showed how powerful or weak we were, not necessarily our biological genetics. He actually tried to do some research to pin-down exactly what elements played a real role in determining how powerful or weak a witch or wizard would be. Whatever the cause, he was convinced it was only partially determined by blood purity, since he had numerous examples of a pureblood line weakening over generations, but then being suddenly revitalized by the introduction of a fresh bloodline. Specifically, a muggleborn or muggle parent. He's a prime example - the pureblood line he came from had been isolating themselves for generations in an attempt to remain _pure_ , but it had resulted in severely weakened magical cores, and decidely questionable sanity. Then his mum ran off with a muggle, and he's what we got."

Draco's jaw floundered as he gaped at Harry as if his head were on fire. Despite this, he never actually managed to get any words out and remained silently stunned instead.

"Anyway, despite his own personal beliefs on blood purity, he realized that there was such a strong movement in the twenties, thirties and forties around the idea of strengthening the purity of our bloodlines, and also such a strong xenophobic isolationist attitude, that it was the easiest talking point to use to get people riled up and enthusiastic about serving him. It wasn't until after his mind finally cracked in the early 70's that he started to believe his own rhetoric and started honestly making plans towards following through on wiping them out like he'd been promising for years.

"He told me once that, in retrospect, it would have been a huge mistake if he'd succeeded at all, since the truth of the matter is that there's a rather large portion of our population that is either muggleborn, or the first or second generation child of a muggleborn, and that we can't risk decreasing our numbers any further than they already are. The muggles already outnumber us to such a vast degree, that our priority should be to try and unify wizarding kind, not drive a bigger wedge between us, or cut down our numbers."

"Huh… and the _Dark Lord_ seriously said all that?" Draco said, still looking rather incredulous.

" _My_ version of him did. Or - sorry, rather, the Slytherin-me's version of him did," Harry said, correcting himself quickly. "I rather doubt you'd get the _Voldemort_ of this world to admit or openly agree with any of that. Marvolo spoke to me a few times about how weird it was for him to look back on his thought processes from before he healed his soul and his mind, and examine just how irrational, paranoid, and obsessive he was on the strangest of things. I can definitely see that reflected in our world's Voldemort."

"Do you _have_ to say his name?" Draco whined after wincing at Harry's choice of words.

Harry shrugged. "It's easier for me to differentiate them in my head that way. Slytherin-world Dark Lord is _Marvolo,_ or Mars… which was sort of a nickname I used to refer to him when I was worried someone who was familiar with the name _Marvolo_ might overhear. That's easy for me. Gryffindor-me's Dark Lord is _Voldemort_. Gryffindor-me would _never_ call him the Dark Lord. I definitely remember _hating_ that, and really thinking poorly of people who were _too afraid_ to just use his name."

"Referring to him by his name like that is incredibly _disrespectful_ though," Draco said in a low voice, almost as if even here, in this secret room locked within the school, some part of him was afraid that Dark Lord would jump out from behind some shadow and punish him for his insolence.

"I don't have a lot respect for this Voldemort," Harry said thoughtfully. "My Marvolo managed to realize he was broken and start work on fixing himself, all on his own. Mind you, he had the effects of the Elixir of Life to make his deficiencies blatantly obvious, but _still_. Our world's Dark Lord was still perfectly capable of having realized he was broken, _but he didn't_. So now I've got to see if I can try and force the issue. But I _know_ doing that will only make him _more paranoid_ and skeptical. _Especially_ coming from _me_. And of course, this is all assuming I can even find a way to fix him at all. It might not even be possible. I have _no idea_ what I'm going to do if that's the case."

Draco hummed in understanding and gave a small acknowledging nod of his head. "Not sure what I'll do either," he said with a sigh.

Harry huffed out a breath and seemed to refocus himself. He still had his clock face pendant necklace in his hand so he took that moment to slip it over his head and stuff it beneath his shirt. "Well, I came here saying I'd just drop in, deliver the pendant, and head out again right away, and yet here I am going on and on… I really do need to head back. It'll only get harder to come up with believable excuses the more I do this."

Draco nodded his head and took the moment to slip his necklace over his head as well.

"Whenever you find a bit of time to come in here and work on this thing, and feel like you wouldn't mind some company, just put it on the back of the pendant and if I can manage to come too, I'll drop by," Harry added as he stood up and slung his rucksack over his shoulder.

Distracted goodbyes were given as Draco turned back to refocus on his work and Harry left the Room of Requirement and returned to Gryffindor Tower.

— —


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

By the later half of the week, Harry noticed that Dumbledore was once again missing from the head table. He'd been coming and going since the start of term, and Harry had wondered mildly where he might be going in weeks past, but found he had some firm suspicions as to why the man was disappearing, and it made Harry anxious for the following Monday's meeting, since he knew he had some questions he needed to ask his other self to get to Marvolo right away.

Basically Harry suspected that Dumbledore was out horcrux hunting.

Seeing as how the _lessons_ Harry was receiving from the Headmaster were clearly all focused around deducing what sorts of items the Dark Lord might have collected and valued enough to use to house pieces of his soul, Harry thought it was a pretty safe bet that Dumbledore was out there actually _looking_ for those items.

The man knew he was on borrowed time as it were, and was probably desperate to make any progress he could with what little time he had left.

The problem was that if Harry was right, he needed to find out from Marvolo where the remaining horcruxes were, and he needed to find out _fast_ so that he could get to them before Dumbledore could.

It was bad enough that the Diary and the Ring were both destroyed, but Harry was sure he couldn't risk any more getting lost.

At least he knew the Diadem was safe. He'd checked the Room of Lost Things the first time he joined Draco there and confirmed that the Diadem was there. Harry found he was torn as to whether or not he should leave it where it was or move it. In the end, he wasn't convinced that it would be any safer in amongst Harry's things — in fact, it would probably be considerably _less safe_ there — and the only other place Harry could think of to hide it was the Chamber, and Harry suspected that Dumbledore surely would have placed a ward on Myrtle's bathroom to notify him if anyone accessed the sink that hid the passageway.

So he left it where it was. But that was only _one_ horcrux. Harry knew there were at least two others (not counting himself or Nagini).

All of this only served to make him that much more anxious for the weekend to come and then go, so he could get to Monday evening. That anxiety lead to Harry having to work harder to keep up a non-threatening front for his friends. It was getting to the point where he felt he was putting on a show every time he spent time with any of the Gryffindors, and his friends especially. It was like he was _acting —_ playing the role of the 'character' of Gryffindor-Harry Potter that Harry _thought_ might be right. But he wasn't quite _sure_ since he still had trouble entirely remembering exactly what he was like before all this happened since so many of his 'new' memories felt like they were just as real as the old ones, and just as old.

In the words of Draco Malfoy, Harry was _messed up_.

He wondered if this was how Marvolo had felt when trying to look back at his time spent with his soul overly-mutilated, and marveling at how irrational and nonsensical his thought and emotional processes had been.

Harry knew it wasn't quite the same thing, but it felt like it was within reason to compare the two things a bit.

To keep his sanity, while playing pretend around the Gryffindors, and waiting impatiently for Monday to come, Harry managed to slip away and join Draco in the Room of Requirement several more times over the later half of the week, and again on Sunday.

They were still working on transcribing more of the rune sequences written all over the vanishing cabinet, and Harry was slowly working his way through translating them.

Finally, Monday came. But before Harry could make it to the scheduled meeting with his alternate-reality self later that night, he had to make it through the _day_.

Defense against the Dark Arts had long been his strongest subject — _in both realities_ in fact — but there was no denying that Gryffindor-Harry hadn't been nearly as refined or well studied for a number of reasons. The first obvious advantage that his Slytherin-self had over Gryffindor-Harry was that the Slytherin version had been working on non-verbal magic since the summer between fourth and fifth years. Harry in this world hadn't even _thought_ to try non-verbal magic before it was forced down their throats this year by nearly every one of their professors.

The first Defense class of the year had involved Harry _verbally_ defending himself against a 'demonstration' attack from Snape, thus earning himself a detention for 'cheek'. The next few classes after that had been during that weird sort of transition time for Harry since that was when the knowledge and associated memories had been randomly surfacing like a dripping leaky faucet.

But all through that, Snape had continued his old habits of using Harry as a punching bag, and had called on him regularly in hopes of humiliating.

That had stopped by the end of September when it started to become blatantly obvious to Snape that Harry wasn't going to be tripped up and publicly mocked quite so easily any longer. Harry _knew_ this subject, and now that Harry's knowledge from his Slytherin-self was pretty much fully integrated, the non-verbal focus of the class had been a cake-walk.

Since Snape had basically been treating Harry like a leper in class for several weeks at this point, Harry was caught off guard when Snape suddenly called on him this day, for a class demonstration.

"For the last seven weeks we have devoted one class per week to studying the theoretical academics of defending yourself against the Dark Arts with non-verbal incanting, and one class per week on actually attempting to _perform_ spells non-verbally. The fact that there are _still_ some of you dunderheads who can't manage a simple Protego without _whispering_ under your breath is _pathetic_ , but hardly _surprising_ ," Snape sneered to the class as he stood in the large open area at the front of the classroom with Harry standing awkwardly to the side, waiting and wondering exactly what sort of horror show was about to take place.

" _Some_ of you have finally managed a disarming hex, or a simple shield charm, and for the most _basic_ of Dark Arts, and most _inexperienced_ of opponents, this might help you survive long enough to run away with your tail between your legs," Snape pressed on. "But _some_ spells, as you should all know by now, cannot be stopped with such basic means.

"If you actually did your assignment from last week, you should be able to name at least four standard curses and the appropriate measures needed to shield or counter them. Potter!"

Harry flinched, surprised at suddenly being spoken to when he'd been totally ignored since Snape had first called him up.

"Yes, sir?" Harry responded quickly.

"Describe the signs one should look for to identify the casting of the full body-bind curse."

"When casting it, the opponent has to aim at you but then raising their wand so that they're pointing virtually up before coming back down and completing the wand movement, so it's a pretty wide-open and obvious wand movement. Probably one of the easier ones to read," Harry said. "Oh, and it has no light or color at all when cast."

Snape's chin tilted up and a small displeased curl appeared on his upper lip, but he didn't look surprised that Harry had been able to answer the question. He's stopped being surprised weeks ago and was now just irritated by it.

"And what measures can be used to prevent being _hit_ by this spell?" Snape asked.

"The _propulsant_ charm has to be used. It cuts right through a _protego_ ," Harry responded without hesitation.

"So," Snape began returning his focus on the classroom and making no effort to publicly acknowledge that Harry had gotten the answer _right_. "—if you _misjudge_ what spell your opponent is casting, and use the wrong counter or shield charm, you can easily end up taking the full brunt of the attack. In a dueling situation, reading your opponent, and _knowing and understanding_ the sorts of spells your opponent might use, is essential to properly defending yourself."

Parvati Patil's hand went into the air and Snape seemed to stare at it for a moment as if it was personally insulting him. Finally he grimaced and made a lazy gesture with his hand in her direction. "Ms. Patil?"

"But what do you do if you have no idea what spell they're casting? What if they're casting some nasty _Dark_ curse that you aren't familiar with at all, so you have no idea what would be the best shield or whatever?"

"Dodge," Snape drawled derisively.

She grimaced and sort of sank into herself at her desk.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said sharply, once again drawing attention back onto Harry. "I am going to cast a series of curses at you. It is your task to identify the curses and cast appropriate countermeasures in an effort to _not get hit_. Of course, if you find yourself unable to determine the spells, you are welcome to fall back on… _dodging_."

Harry felt a mixture of resigned dread and irritation. Snape was just using this as an excuse to throw curses at Harry with impunity, and Harry would be damned if he gave the man the satisfaction of actually _hitting him_.

"Am I aloud to cast counter curses?" Harry asked.

"In instances where they are specifically appropriate to the curse initially cast," Snape sneered, looking down his long nose at Harry. Snape turned and walked several feet away to stand at one end of the open area at the head of the classroom.

Harry heaved a small irritated sigh and took several steps back to put the standardized dueling competition distance between the two of them, though Harry never turned to put his back towards Snape, because _he wasn't stupid._

Snape swirled on the spot he had ended on and pivoted towards Harry with his robes billowing dramatically, and Harry caught himself rolling his eyes at the man's attempts to be intimidating.

"First position, Potter," Snape bit out.

Harry instinctively stood, heels together and feet at a 90 degree angle. His wand in his right hand, pointed downwards and away from the opponent. Snape took the same pose, examining Harry through suspicious narrow eyes.

"Salute," Snape barked out and once again, on instinct from what felt like _years_ of repetitive, standardized practice, Harry moved, his dominant foot forward, towards Snape, and his other foot back, forming an L, but now shoulder-width apart. He aimed his wand, arm extended straight, towards Snape's knees, and Snape did the same, still keenly observing Harry's movements. Harry would later think back on this and feel the urge to smack himself in the face, but at the time he didn't think anything of it.

Harry then brought his wand arm up, raised until the hand was parallel with the ground, then brought his elbow in and pulled the wand back, upright, so that it was now directly in front of his lips. Snape had mirrored each movement, but not until a moment after Harry had started them on his own. The Salute now finished Harry lowered his wand slowly and transitioned into his preferred guard stance.

He was turned mostly sideways to minimize his profile, one leg forward and one leg back with most of the weight on the ball of his foot, ready to kick off in any needed direction. His wand hand was up and at the ready while his left hand went back to help him shift his balance and pivot more quickly.

Snape's eyes remained motionless for several moments longer as he observed Harry keenly. He looked as if he were trying to pick Harry apart with his beady little black eyes. Then, without warning, his wand made a sharp jerking motion, left, with a corkscrew and a fast jab, sending a purple jagged jet of light towards Harry.

Instinctively, Harry cast the proper counter, his own wand looked as if it were used as a racket to swat away a ball. The spell shot off to the left, dissipating on the rear wall of the classroom.

Snape wasted no time sending the next attack, and then the one after that, and after that. The pace grew unreasonably fast for any classroom exercise, but Harry kept up. Marvolo was much faster than this, and shot off much _worse_ curses. Harry didn't doubt _at all_ that Snape was more than capable of much worse spells than he was presenting using, but this _was_ a class demonstration. And there were _witnesses_.

Harry remained defensive, sticking to various deflector charms and shield charms, appropriate to different classes of curses Snape was sending his way, but after about fifteen spells fired by the greasy git, Harry spotted an opportunity.

The spell Snape cast — _intercirum_ , Harry's mind supplied as soon as Snape started the movement of his wand, had a very specific _counter_ curse that could be used to send it back to its caster. The expected whip-like blast of yellow light that shot from Snape's wand an instant later came towards Harry just as Harry twisted his body around and _caught_ the tip with his own smooth movement, twisting his arm back and around and with a flick of his wrist, sending the yellow spell right back.

Snape's eyes widened and Harry saw legitimate surprise in the man's face as the curse was sent curling back, winded it's way behind the man and swung around beneath his knees, pulling his legs forward and sending Snape falling backwards, landing on his arse.

A couple people in the class could be heard bursting out with stunned hysterics, but the laughter and chatter died almost an instant later as Snape jumped back up and turned his lethal glare on the room at large.

Silence felt, but muffled snorts and snickers could still be heard breaking free for several seconds longer.

Snape's glare instantly shifted back to Harry, who was still standing at the ready, his guard up and ready for whatever came next. Which was a good thing because Snape didn't give him any warning when he began sending another volley of spells.

The room was utterly silence as Harry's classmates watched the demonstration in a state of apparent shock and disbelief, as Snape sent one spell after another, and Harry managed to block, deflect, or counter every one of them. Snape did not make the same mistake again after that, however. The few counterable spells he shot off after that, he was ready for it when Harry sent them back, and he dodged or deflected all of them.

With no warning, and considerable abruptness, Snape suddenly declared they were done and lowered his wand. Harry took several moments longer, still on edge and with his defensive awareness still on high alert, before he slowly lowered his own.

" _That_ is what the _rest_ of you need to master," Snape said sharply, turning his gaze on the class and ignoring Harry.

Harry's classmates were mostly pale-faced and stunned, or had wild looks of excitement, still reeling from what they'd just witnessed.

"Spell identification _without_ the incantation being spoken, and accurately associating that spell with it's appropriate shield, deflection, or counter. This is what I expect _all_ NEWT level students in this class. Those of you still struggling to perform a _single spell_ without the verbal incantation will be coddled no longer. If you cannot succeed in such a rudimentary task by the end of first term, you will be dropped from my class. _Am, I, Understood?"_ he bit out the last bit in a harsh, biting, tone.

Silent nodding could be seen from several people. Several others, including Neville, looked decidedly green.

"Read chapter three through four and write a three foot essay detailing three identifying signs to look for in each of Bodwink's standard set of curses," Snape commanded just as the bells in the tower could be heard ringing in the distance signally the end of the class.

Harry heaved a sigh, relieved that the class was over and he was basically half-way through the day, and one step closer to his meeting with his alternate-reality self later that evening. Harry relaxed a bit, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders, as he made his way from the head of the classroom back towards his desk to collect his things.

" _Merlin_ , Harry… that was… that was just _mental!"_ Ron exclaimed in an awed, hushed whisper as he stuffed his own textbook into his rucksack and stood up.

"Yeah, Harry. I had _no idea_ you could —" Seamus began to say, the excitement palpable in his tone, when their hushed conversation was cut off by Snape's sharp voice.

"Potter!" he barked from the head of the classroom.

Harry groaned and heaved an irritated sigh. He finished cramming his book and quills into his bag, and turned to look in Snape's direction.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, though there was clearly no enthusiasm or respect in his tone.

"Remain after class."

Hermione and Ron shared a look before looking worriedly at Harry.

"Go on to lunch. I'll catch up later," Harry muttered to them as he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed back up to the front of the class where Snape stood waiting for him with an impatient glower.

Harry and Snape both waited there, neither saying a word until the classroom was finally empty. As the last person left through the door, Snape waved his wand, closing the door heavily behind them.

Harry stared at it warily for a moment before turning his cautious gaze on Snape.

"Who taught you to do that, Potter," Snape asked in a low, almost threatening voice.

Harry shrugged. "I taught myself. I've been studying."

"Liar," Snape bit out instantly without any hesitation or doubt.

Harry glared at him. "How would _you_ know? It's not like you've seen my performance in Defense before this. You are aware that I ran a Defense Association last year while Umbridge was trying to melt everyone's brains with her pink cardigans, simpering kitten-plates, and Ministry-approved _curriculum_."

"I am aware of your activities last year, Potter. I also know that nothing I have heard or seen would indicate that you were anywhere _near_ this level at that time.

Harry's eyebrows raised into his forehead as part of him guffawed and rejoiced at the fact that his miserable bat of a teacher had just acknowledged, _for the first time ever_ , that Harry had done a _good job_ at something.

Harry shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. "I held back with the DA kids. Most came in not even knowing the shield charm. We did basic stuff and worked our way up. And even since then, I've been practicing."

"Over the summer?" Snape drawled sarcastically. "With no instruction? Do not _lie_ to me Potter. What you did today was not the work of a _self-trained_ wizard. Those were the actions of someone who has been drilled, _repeatedly_ , by someone with considerable skill. Your stance, your reactions, your form — I refuse to believe you could do that simply from _reading a book_. _Especially you._ Not to mention what you pulled off after Katie Bell was cursed on the path up to the castle over a week ago."

"A person with enough motivation and determination absolutely _could_ teach themselves the stuff I've learned," Harry argued hotly. "And just what sort of things might I _need_ to know in the coming years if I hope to survive? Curse breaking, and dueling. I think having the most powerful Dark Lord to come along in who knows how long, out for my head, is perfectly sufficient motivation to explain my improved _work ethic."_

Snape glared at him with narrowed, disbelieving eyes. The glare grew stronger and Harry _felt_ it the instant it shifted from just a _glare_ to something much more. Harry threw up all of his occlumency walls on instinct, took a step back and fell into his guard stance with his wand held aloft, ready for anything.

He did all of this without even _thinking_ , and in retrospect, knew it was probably not the best sign to cool Snape's concerns.

"Stay, out, of _my_ , head," Harry said in a slow, warning tone, as he felt his blood begin to boil and his anger threatened to make him do something he knew he would sorely regret.

Snape's eyes registered surprise and then disbelief, and _then_ intense suspicion.

"Occlumency. How?"

"Practice, determination, and not having someone going in and tearing apart all my natural defenses twice a week," Harry snapped.

"Just _what_ are you insinuating, Potter?" Snape barked back.

"I'm _insinuating_ exactly what it sounded like, _sir,_ " Harry sneered.

"Are you actually suggesting that I intentionally undermined your lessons last year?" Snape said in a soft, seething, whisper. "Just because you were too incompetent to follow simple instructions does not mean you can deflect your own failures and pin the blame on _me._ "

"Funny, as soon as I stopped coming to you for lessons, I started making _actual progress_ ," Harry lied easily.

"Not progress _enough_ , it would seem," Snape said airily, looking down his long noes at Harry and instantly reminding Harry of the fact that it was his inability to _actually_ block Voldemort's mind invasion that had led to him receiving the false visions of Sirius being tortured at the Ministry. Which had in turn led to…

Harry scowled and looked away.

"I've answered your questions, _sir._ I think we're done here. May I be excused?" Harry bit out in a tone that only barely restrained his anger and irritation. As if it wasn't bad enough that Snape had used the later half of the class period to fire an excessive volley of spells at Harry's head, but now he was grilling him for information that was _none of his bloody business_.

"I am not yet satisfied with your answers," Snape drawled acidically.

"Well, they're not going to change, so it would seem we're at an impasse," Harry seethed.

"Something has happened to you, Potter. I can _smell_ it. You're _up_ to something."

"What makes you think that anything about my life is _your business?_ It's _not_ … _Sir._ "

Harry readjusted his rucksack over his shoulder and gave Snape an impatient, expectant, look. Snape just glowered at him through suspicious narrowed eyes for several beats longer.

"Fine Potter. Leave. You are dismissed."

Harry turned and bolted from the room an instant later, desperately glad to be putting distance between himself and his professor.

—

Over the previous seven weeks of school, various people who had been in the DA the previous year, had come to up Harry asking if he had any intention of starting it up again, and he'd been dodging their questions the whole time. Dodging them enough that the requests had finally started to die down, since it was becoming obvious that he probably wasn't going to do it.

The demonstration in Defense, however, seemed to have revitalized the hopes and interest of quite a few people, and Harry had been bombarded with the question by all of his classmates who had also been in the DA as soon as he got to Lunch. Pretty soon even people who _hadn't_ been in the class to witness the demo first hand, had heard about it from others, and Harry was asked by nearly every former DA member, by the time Dinner rolled around.

It was sort of startling because bringing back the DA was the _last_ thing on Harry's mind at the moment, plus it would be kind of… well, counter productive, honestly. Yet there was some small part, deep inside, that kind of liked the idea of sharing some of his knowledge with the others. Some part of him that remembered the DA meetings fondly. But that part wasn't nearly large or strong enough to make him seriously consider doing it.

And while it was _technically_ the 'Defense Association', everyone _thought_ of it as 'Dumbledore's Army' — even if the name had been rather tongue-in-cheek. As things currently stood, Harry felt a lot more apt to run an army _against_ Dumbledore, not in his service.

Conversation _during_ dinner seemed to have a rather strong focus on the DADA class earlier that day, and any Gryffindors from other years that hadn't yet heard about it, heard about it _now_. The fact that Harry had apparently gone toe-to-toe against Snape in some sort of duel, was a very hot topic, even if Harry repeatedly insisted it was _not_ a duel, and he hadn't even been aloud to send curses of his own _back_.

Everyone rolled their eyes and made snide remarks on Snape being a coward who could give it, but wouldn't _take_ it, and Harry had to admit that he rather enjoyed those.

In the end, it served as a decent enough distraction from Harry's otherwise overly impatient thoughts regarding the meeting coming up in just a couple hours.

Dinner finished and the majority of Harry's housemates began to make their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry was one of them, but he'd already started planting the seeds with Ron that he intended to do some studying, and go for a walk to clear his head. Harry had made it sound boring and uninteresting enough that the ginger made no efforts to offer to join him. So at half past seven, Harry took his rucksack that included the Marauder's Map, his invisibility cloak, and the small hand-mirror, and left the Gryffindor Common Room, heading straight for the Room of Requirement.

When Harry walked past to call for an empty room for the meeting, nothing happened, making Harry realize that the room was already occupied. Harry walked past three times again, this time thinking about the room where you can hide things and the door appeared a moment later. Harry found Draco inside, working on his transcription of the Vanishing Cabinet's runes, and he only barely made a noise of acknowledgement as Harry came over and sat cross-legged on the floor beside him.

"What's the time?" Draco asked distractedly.

"About half an hour till the meeting," Harry replied and Draco nodded his head but kept carefully copying down the runes.

On the floor beside Draco were several sheets of parchment that included more of the transcription, but this one also had a working translation beneath each line. Harry started reading over it and used an extra quill that Draco had with his writing materials, to cross out a few things, and add a few others.

Harry also circled a part of the transcribed runes and asked Draco where on the cabinet this part was actually located.

Draco looked at the page Harry was indicating for a moment before pointing out an area along the back.

The two worked for another twenty minutes, however Harry had the hand-mirror out and waiting on his rucksack. He found himself going back and checking it rather frequently, unsure if his Slytherin-counterpart would do the summoning, or if he was expected to do it.

At precisely eight o'clock Harry felt a sort of _tugging_ feeling in his chest and his hand flew instantly to the mirror. Draco caught the motion, sat up straighter and set his quill and parchment down.

Harry held the mirror out in front of him and saw that what was once a reflection was now swirling dark mist. A moment later the mist began to coalesce and the figure of another Harry appeared there, staring back at them.

Harry heaved a relieved sigh, desperately grateful that he hadn't been stood up.

"Well, I'm here," the Slytherin-Harry said from the other side of the mirror, and while he certainly didn't sound thrilled, he sounded considerably less harsh and angry than he had the last time.

"Yes! Thank you!" Harry exclaimed with legitimate gratitude. "Thank you so much for doing this. So did you talk to Marvolo?"

"That I did," the Slytherin-Harry replied with a dip of his head.

"Fantastic. But I've actually got a list of _new_ questions that it occurred to me over the last week that I need Marvolo to answer too. So erm… will you be able to ask him _more_ questions for me? After all this is done, I mean?"

The Slytherin-Harry actually smirked back and seemed to spend a moment fiddling with the hand mirror before apparently rigging a way to stand it somewhere so he was no longer holding it himself. He moved back a bit and another figure began to materialize to his side.

"How about you just ask him yourself?" Slytherin-Harry responded moving a bit to the side just as the swirling mist coalesced enough that Harry suddenly recognized the person that appeared there.

"Marvolo!" Harry exclaimed as a thrilled and relieved rush of emotions flooded though him all at once.

Sitting beside the Slytherin-Harry on the other end of the mirror-connection, now sat an attractive middle-aged-looking man with dark slicked back hair, sharp fine features, and piercing _red_ eyes.

Harry heard Draco gasp from beside him, but he had eyes only for the figure in the mirror.

Marvolo had an expression that seemed a mix between fascination and amusement. "This really is _quite_ amazing isn't it?" he muttered, appearing to be examining the mirror as much as what he was seeing in it. Then he shifted his gaze squarely on Harry and grinned.

"Well, hello _Harry_."

The Harry beside him rolled his eyes.

"By the gods, I'm… I…" Harry's jaw floundered and found he suddenly had to suppress the urge to cry. It was irrational and totally _insane_ and _stupid_. "Merlin, I know it sounds weird, but I cannot tell you how much I've missed you… er… even though I know on a rational level that I've never _actually met you_. It's just… it _feels_ like I have because… well, _his_ memories, obviously. I mean, I _know_ they're his memories when I _think_ about it, but when I'm not actively analyzing my own thoughts, it all just feels like _me_ so…" Harry shut his mouth and mentally berated himself for not shutting up sooner.

Marvolo chuckled, obviously amused, as he turned his gaze on the Slytherin-Harry beside him. "Well, it's certainly clear now where your new tendency to ramble on aimlessly, has come from."

The Slytherin-Harry just scowled mildly, rolling his eyes before turning them on Harry with an obviously annoyed glare.

"Yes. And I'm _sooo_ grateful for his tendency towards long-winded incoherent word-vomit," the Slytherin-Harry drawled sarcastically.

Draco snorted from beside Harry.

"Hey, I don't think I rambled _nearly_ this much _before_ this whole thing started. My brain is just extra-scrambled now," Harry grumbled defensively.

"Scrambled is putting it _mildly_ , if you ask me" the Slytherin Harry added.

"While this _is_ all quite fascinating, I feel that we will have a great deal to cover tonight, so we'd best get things started," Marvolo said and both Harry's instantly sat to attention. "Now, _my_ Harry has filled me in on the deplorable status of my counterpart in your world, and told me about your concerns regarding the destruction of the diary and the ring. I believe that was the first matter you wanted to discuss?"

Harry nodded his head eagerly. "Yes. I… Well, I know that I'm never going to turn _my_ Voldemort into _you_ , and… I mean, it's stupid how depressing that is, but I can get over that. But as he is right now, I just _can't_ side with him. Plus, I doubt he'd let me. Even if he understood that I'm one of his horcruxes, I don't think it would be enough to persuade him to stop trying to kill me. But if there were some way to get his soul restored the way you restored yours, that would be great. But with three-quarters of his soul already destroyed I can't help but wonder if it's already too late."

"The vessels were destroyed, but the pieces of soul contained within them shouldn't be entirely lost yet," Marvolo said in such a matter-of-fact tone that Harry was instantly filled with relief. "When I first began the process of restoring my own soul, the first thing I ended up having to do was perform a ritual that summoned all of the anchorless pieces of my soul that had broken off over the years… which was far greater than I'd ever suspected and entirely unsettling. The piece that broke off and entered you was _not_ the first piece that splintered off on it's own, but it was the largest, and also the only one that managed to attach itself to a vessel."

Harry's eyes widened as he processed that information, and even the Slytherin-Harry beside Marvolo looked rather surprised and even unsettled by that.

"The pieces of soul that were inside the diary and the ring would have been detached and left anchorless, floating about in the general vicinity of where ever their vessel was destroyed at. Without a vessel they _do_ slowly deteriorate until it gets to the point where they totally dissolve, but Harry tells me that the ring was only destroyed this last summer, and while the diary _was_ destroyed a few years ago, it _was_ the largest piece, and the fact that it was left in the Chamber is probably to our advantage," Marvolo continued.

"The Chamber has preservation and perpetuation wards all around it to help the basilisk continue to survive, even when out of it's sleep-stasis in it's rear lair," the Harry-Slytherin contributed, obviously having had this conversation with Marvolo prior to this meeting.

"And you think this would have helped preserve the piece of your soul as well?" Harry asked, a hint of excitement entering his voice.

"I expect it has likely contributed somewhat," Marvolo said with a nod. "Besides, I had free-floating pieces that had no-doubt been detached from myself or anything else for _years_ and they were minuscule compared to the piece that would have been in the diary, yet they'd remained in tact. I'm confident that you would be able to summon the diary portion and recover the vast majority of it."

"Oh thank _Merlin_ ," Harry exclaimed, a rush of tremendous relief flooding through him.

"I am prepared to provide you with the specifications on all the necessary rituals, but you did say you had other questions, so perhaps we should get those out of the way first," Marvolo said and Harry quickly nodded his head.

"Yes, right. So I guess the first one is _where are the other horcruxes?_ I know there's at least two more… right? There was the diary and the ring, I've already got access to the diadem, and I know that locket is another one, but I have no idea where it is. You mentioned another, but I wasn't sure what it was."

"A golden cup once owned by Helga Hufflepuff," Marvolo replied.

"Right! Great. I think I need to move _fast_ on tracking them down," Harry said, leaning forward somewhat anxiously.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Dumbledore has been vanishing for days and even _weeks_ at a time since the start of term. Add that to the _lessons_ he's been giving me, centered around memories he's collected about your past and your childhood — each of which seems to obviously focus on objects that ended up being horcruxes — I think it's safe to assume he might be using that time to try and track those objects down, or at least track down any clues as to where they might be hidden."

"Ah… Hmmm… yes, that sounds plausible," Marvolo said with a thoughtful nod. "I have tremendous doubts that he'd actually _succeed_ in finding their locations, but at the same time, the man is obnoxiously persistent."

"If he really _is_ horcrux hunting, I figured I should probably make it a point to find them _first._ Though now that I know that him destroying the horcrux doesn't actually destroy the soul piece within it, I guess it's not nearly so important that I get to them first."

"Damage is still inflicted on the soul in the process of the vessel being destroyed. The soul will be better off if you can remove it without the unnecessary trauma."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement. "Okay, got it. So I'll still try to get a hold of them first."

"I suspect you'll encounter the most trouble with the cup. You might just have to leave that one for your world's version of me to deal with on his own, later. At the same time, I rather doubt Dumbledore would be able to get it either."

"Oh? Where is it?"

"Gringott's bank. The Lestrange Vault."

"Oh. Yeah, I don't think I'll be getting that one."

"It's a relatively small piece in comparison to most of the rest — though the Diadem _did_ come after it. I think that the biggest obstacle you're going to face is that all of the untethered pieces will need time to _merge_ and _heal_. This is also why it's best that the remaining pieces are extracted without the damage incurred when the vessel is outright destroyed. Those pieces will take less time to incorporate with the rest as a whole."

"Wait - okay, start from the beginning on all that," Harry said.

"The pieces that are no longer anchored to a vessel - the _untethered_ pieces - aren't protected any longer, so they slowly dissolve. Plus many of them had suffered some degree of damage that was part of what broke them off in the first place. Picture them like… bread, or a sponge or something. Full of small holes and pockets. The first ritual I'll be giving you will bring all of the pieces to you, but you will have to combine them all, and while they are combined, you will need to perform another ritual, and an _incubation_ of sorts, that will take all of those individual pieces and basically combine them in such a way that the holes and cracks are filled in. Right now his soul is _festering_. It's rotten and wounded.

"The primary central soul that he's actually running off of directly is much the same way, though those porous gaps have been filled in with Darkness and corruption to allow him to function even though his operating soul is now miniscule. The pieces we wish to restore to him need to be healed _before_ you try to put them back. This is most necessary since in the state that he's in right now, he would not be an ideal environment for spiritual healing. He'd have a more whole soul, but it would still be full of festering scars and damage."

Harry made a solemn and thoughtful hum and nodded his head slowly, taking it all in. "Merlin, that all sounds so awful… So definitely do the healing incubation before putting the detached soul pieces back in him. Though I'm still not sure how I'm going to work the whole 'putting it back in him' part."

"He's going to have to do that part himself, and of his own free will," Marvolo said in a warning tone. "It's not something that you can do _to_ him. Nor can he be forced. He must do it to himself _willingly_."

Harry groaned and nodded. "That's what I was afraid of."

"What about the Philosopher's Stone and the Elixir of Life?" Draco asked, speaking aloud for the first time since this had started. Harry angled the mirror a bit so that Draco was more in view, and realized he wasn't sure if Marvolo had even realized Draco was there before now.

"But it was destr…" the Slytherin-Harry began before halting mid-word. He looked thoughtful for a moment before switching to annoyed. "Actually, it probably wasn't."

"Yeah, I realized that too," Harry said, nodding his head. "I mean, I believed it when I was eleven and Dumbledore _told_ me that he destroyed it, but in retrospect, that would have just been indescribably pointless, and would have made no sense at all."

"Hmm… yes, the Stone," Marvolo hummed thoughtfully. "My Harry tells me that your Dumbledore is showing signs of having been cursed by my ring, is that correct?"

"Yeah. His hand is shriveled and blackened. It looks like a bog-man hand that's been preserved for a thousand years in muck or something."

"Do you know if it extends much beyond the wrist or forearm?"

Harry shook his head. "I've never seen any of his arm to be able to tell."

"Well, it doesn't matter too much, either way," Marvolo muttered, mostly to himself. "If the assumption is that he managed to slow the spread of the curse long enough to get to Severus, and then _he_ was the one who halted it further, that still would not entirely account for him still being _alive_. I can imagine him buying himself a month, _maybe two_ , but… how long do you suppose it's been since he was cursed?"

"It was at least mid-summer."

"Definitely too long," Marvolo said with a confident nod of his head. "I would say there's a decent chance the Stone is presently in the castle."

Harry blinked. "You think it's _here? Still?"_

"I doubt it's been there the whole time," Marvolo corrected, "but I would wager that he has once again borrowed it from Flamel, and is using the Elixir to survive at the moment. It wouldn't be enough to cure him, as the curse is far too powerful for that, but it would be enough to give him more time. He could theoretically go on for ages so long as he kept using the Elixir, however it would be an endless form of mild torture.

"There's no way he isn't currently suffering from the curse, I just suspect he's hiding it well. Him not having died within the first hour of being cursed may seem to be to his advantage, since it apparently provides him with the extra time he needs to both prepare you, but also to try and hunt down more evidence of my horcruxes, but it's not quite the boon it outwardly appears to be.

"The curse radiates pain throughout the entire body and grows worse over time. When the curse is spread out over the course of a single day, the ramp up to extreme pain is gradual but constant. Halting the progress hasn't removed the effects, just slowed them down tremendously. He _is_ in pain — an endless, constant, pain. It will not cease until he dies — Elixir of Life, or not."

"Wow… does it make me an awful person that I'm somehow pleased by that thought?" Harry asked.

His Slytherin-counterpart snorted and smirked. "It pleases _me_ , plenty. I just wish that _our_ Dumbledore had been stupid enough to get cursed by the damn thing."

Harry paused thoughtfully after that, mulling things over in his mind. "So, my goal here should be to first try and summon all the untethered pieces of soul and get them incubating so they can start to heal and merge together as one — right?"

"Correct," Marvolo said with a nod.

Then I need to get the remaining horcruxes that I _can_ get… though the cup is out. Oh, right! Where's the locket, anyway?"

"Ah - actually that's a very important question," Marvolo said, sitting up straighter. "The locket was stolen at one point, and so it wasn't where I left it."

Harry's eyes widened. "It was _stolen?"_

"Yes. It's actually the reason that I discovered you held a piece of my soul," he said, speaking to both Harry's now.

"Oh?" the Slytherin-Harry asked, his curiosity peaked.

"Yes. It was stolen by Regulus Black and he left behind a note declaring his intention to destroy it and see me made mortal again," Marvolo rolled his eyes at that. "I had no idea where to start looking for it, so I ended up devising a way to track the locations of _all_ of my soul pieces. That was what first alerted me to the fact that I had tiny bits and pieces of my soul detached all over the damn place, and _also_ alerted me to the substantially larger piece that resided _in you_. But I was also able to find the locket's location. It _wasn't_ destroyed. Rather it was hidden inside the Black Family Home in London."

"Wait - it's in Grimmauld Place!?" Harry squawked in disbelief. "That's Order Headquarters here! Or, er… it was, up until Sirius died last spring."

"The Order's Headquarters was in the _Black_ Family home?" Marvolo exclaimed with obvious amusement and disbelief in his tone. "How the bloody hell did _that_ end up happening?"

"Sirius hated the house," Slytherin-Harry answered quietly, looking pensive with his brow furrowed deeply. "He told Dumbledore he could use it, so Dumbledore put a Fidelius around it. That, combined with the veritable mountain of wards Orion Black had placed over the house, and it was basically impenetrable."

"But now he's left it to me in his will," Gryffindor-Harry continued on. They weren't sure if the will would be recognized properly so the Order abandoned it; though we did confirm last summer that it really did go to me."

"Confirm?" Marvolo asked.

"Er, the house came with a house elf. Basically, Dumbledore figured that if the house had really transferred to me, ownership of the elf would have too, so we tested it out by having me order him to do something, and it worked."

Marvolo's eyes lit up a bit. "That elf is the one who had the locket."

Harry gaped. "Wait - what? _Kreacher?"_

"Yes, that wretched little thing had it. Apparently Regulus' dying order to the little monster was to destroy it, but then he never could work out _how_ , so it just drove him mad."

"Huh…" Harry said with a dawning sense of greater understanding.

"If that's the case then you could call him to you _now_ an order him to give it to you!" Draco exclaimed from beside Harry.

"Blimey, you're right!" Harry exclaimed. "Er — I'll try it out when we're done here," he decided, turning his full attention back on Marvolo.

"Mm yes, that's probably wise. We still have much to cover," Marvolo agreed.

"Right - okay, so I get the remaining horcruxes, I get the floaty pieces, and I get them all combining together. Then I _also_ have to see if I can figure out where the Stone is hidden, assuming it's actually here in the school. If I can get it, then I just have to get it to my world's Voldemort, and if he actually starts taking the Elixir, _hopefully_ he'll see how much of a wreck he is without it and it won't be _nearly_ as impossible to convince him to put his soul back where it belongs!" Harry concluded, feeling absolutely fantastic, now that he really did have a plan.

"That about sums it up," Marvolo agreed, as a small approving smile curled the corner of his lips. "Additionally, I would not be averse to speaking with him directly, through this fascinating little mirror, should the opportunity arise."

Harry's brows raised into his forehead some as he pondered that possibility. "Well… if it comes to it, I certainly think he'd be more willing to listen to _you_ than he will be to listen to _me._ Assuming he believes any of this, and doesn't just assume it's just some massive scam."

"I can convince him," Marvolo stated with utter confidence, and absolutely no doubt in his voice.

Part of Harry - the Gryffindor part, no doubt - questioned his confidence, while another part of him felt a surge of relief and affection. Suddenly there was a semi-accessible adult that he could turn to for advice. It wasn't ideal, but it was more than he had before, and he was desperately grateful for it.

"Unless there is anything else, I think we should begin going over the rituals you will need to perform to actually accomplish any of these tasks," Marvolo said, drawing Harry's focus back on point.

"Right," Harry said, sitting up straighter and fishing into his bag. Draco took the mirror from him and held it while Harry dug out some parchment and his writing supplies. As he conjured a small writing desk Draco actually spelled out a tripod-like holder and set the mirror into it, looking quite pleased with himself once he was done.

"Ready," Harry said as his quill set to parchment, ready to start transcribing.

"Good. First —"

It was three-quarters of an hour later when Harry was finally able to set his quill down and heave a relieved sigh. There had been _a lot_ to transcribe, and Marvolo had been extra thorough to make sure Harry would have all of the information he would need, since contacting Marvolo for help with questions later would be a slightly convoluted process and might cause undesirable delays.

They'd covered the summoning ritual for the detached parts, the spells necessary to break apart the intact horcruxes without causing damage to the souls within them, the ritual that would combine all of the pieces together, and the process necessary to stuff them all into a temporary vessel and start _incubating_ the soul in a way that promoted accelerated healing.

It was clearly going to be a very involved process, and Harry realized it was going to eat up _a lot_ of his freetime. Draco suggested that they clear a big section of the debris in the hidden things room and Harry could use that as a work space while Draco worked on the cabinet, that way they could both be using the Room of Requirement at the same time since it was probably the most secure location to do something of such a questionable nature.

Shortly before wrapping things up, Marvolo had some recommendations for tracking down the stone, as well as some instruction on how one actually gets Elixir out of it, as it obviously didn't come with an instruction manual, and it wasn't apparently all that obvious a process.

Marvolo _still had_ the Philosopher's Stone in his other world, though he hadn't had to make regular use of it in a while. He still made it a point to keep a small amount of Elixir in storage, and kept a vial of it on him at all times in case of emergency. Since he'd had the thing for five years at this point, he'd become very familiar with it and had some very specific tips on how Harry might go about determining if it really was in the castle, and how to detect if it were nearby.

Slytherin-Harry had gotten bored about halfway through the transcription process and wandered out of view, and Draco had eventually turned his focus back to his work with the cabinet, so by the time they were done, it was just Harry and Marvolo speaking.

"Thank you _so much_ for helping me with all of this. I'd be totally lost without your help," Harry said softly, as it was becoming obvious that things were winding down.

"Before I go, I wanted to ask you something," Marvolo said and Harry sat up straighter and nodded.

"Anything."

"How are you doing?"

Harry blinked at him. That wasn't something he'd been expecting.

"I… I'm… okay, I guess."

"Do not lie to me," Marvolo said, giving Harry a very mild warning glare.

Harry ducked his head and sunk into himself instantly. "Sorry, sir," he muttered before pulling in a deep breath and pushing it back out slowly. "I'm… a mess, I guess. I'm just all twisted up and not entirely sure what to think or do half the time. My instincts are all messed up - pulling me in two totally different directions."

Marvolo made an understanding sort of hum and nodded his head. "My Harry is experiencing much the same thing. He's been particularly conflicted by the fact that he now holds sentimental attachment to a group of people who are not tremendously fond of him."

Harry snorted. "Yeah… I think I get that. Hey, last time he mentioned that there was an attack and he hesitated because he was dueling against someone I know and care about, and someone ended up getting hurt… Who…?"

"It was just Trevor. And don't worry, it was nothing serious," Marvolo said dismissively. "I believe that Harry ended up saving Remus Lupin from an attempted sneak attack by Fenrir. Lupin was dueling Trevor and Greyback attempted to attack Lupin from behind. Harry hexed him and told Lupin to run, but the man ended up turning and hexing Trevor as he escaped, and Trevor had been caught so off guard by my Harry's behavior that he hadn't managed to dodge or counter. Harry was quite troubled with himself after that. We've talked it over though, and I think we're making progress."

Harry felt awful and found he was staring at his hands, tightly clasped in his lap, rather than looking at Marvolo in the mirror.

"I hate the idea of ending up in a battle situation with _anyone,"_ Harry muttered bleakly. "I don't know what the hell I'll do. I'm not even sure which side I'll fight on."

"That is actually an issue that I wanted to bring up with you," Marvolo said, taking on a serious tone.

Harry looked up, peaking through his messy fringe and feeling entirely weary about the subject matter.

"Harry… let's say that you are fully successful. You gather the soul pieces, you find the stone, you get my counterpart to take it, and then get him to heal his own soul. You _succeed_. Then what?"

Harry's jaw floundered and he gaped like some dying fish. "I… I don't know," he admitted finally. It really wasn't something he wanted to think about. _At all._

"As much trouble as my Harry is having, coming to terms with these new memories and emotional attachments, I still feel that he is at a considerable advantage to _your_ situation. My Harry had not been placed into a situation where he has come to doubt his chosen path in life. If anything, his memories of the lies and betrayals that you've suffered has only cemented his confidence that he made the right choices. You, however, are in the exact opposite circumstance. Am I right?"

Harry held his eyes closed, fighting off the entirely unwanted instinct to cry that was flooding him at the moment. His face was hot, and his chest was tight, and he _hated_ just how right Marvolo was. Finally he managed to nod his head and pry his eyes back open.

"However, it is _Dumbledore_ specifically that has betrayed your trust and used you. I rather doubt that many if _any_ of the other people who are important to you, are aware of these deceptions. Abandoning Dumbledore's side may not necessarily mandate abandoning everyone else."

Harry shook his head, finally managing to find his voice. "But it _does_ ," he said, desperately saddened by this. "They'll see it as a betrayal. If I turn against Dumbledore, that means I'm turning against the Order. If I side with my world's Voldemort, that is _exactly_ counter to their primary goal. I mean, the Order exists specifically to _fight Voldemort_. That's the _point_ of it. Joining him quite literally puts me in direct opposition to everyone. I just… I'm screwed."

"It seems that way, that is true," Marvolo said with a nod. "But remember — Your Dumbledore is _dying_. And I suspect that he hasn't yet actually told many of his people about this fact. He may even still be keeping it secret from the whole of his precious Order."

"But why do that?! Why hide it from _them?_ "

"He'll probably want to _use_ his death for something… He'll probably even stage some event around it to make it look like a certain someone or something was responsible for his death, rather than admit that it was precipitated by my curse."

Harry snorted bitterly. "The manipulative chess master, right till the end."

"Precisely."

"But how does that help me with the issue of joining you — er, _my_ Dark Lord, and not being seen as a traitor by everyone I've ever cared about?"

"I'm not sure, entirely. But I think you should keep your eyes open for any opportunities that might arise. I really rather doubt that he wants any of his faithful followers to realize that his plan all along was for you to die a martyr's death, and that he was specifically maneuvering you into caring about the lot of them, just so that you would be more willing to sacrifice yourself to save them when the time finally came.

"Dumbledore always has been, and I expect will always remain, a very secretive individual. He holds his secrets just as tight as I hold mine — perhaps even more so, especially in recent years as I'll admit I've mellowed a bit lately."

Harry grinned and chuckled lightly.

"Chances are that Dumbledore will die and leave no one, or perhaps just _one_ person, aware of your expected role as martyr. He will also probably die without actually telling much of anyone exactly what his plan for bringing about my counterpart's end, ever was. They'll all be lost, and will most likely turn to _you_ , expecting all the answers, and hoping that he had perhaps entrusted his secret plans to you.

"Who is to say that he didn't? Who's to say that he didn't _instruct_ you to work on correcting my counterpart's soul in order to 'vanquish' your Dark Lord. There are certainly many who argue that I am no longer comparable to the creature I was in years past. In my world, of course, I would say I was far more responsible for my own transformation, but in your world, should you be successful, his recovery and transformation will unquestionably be because of your actions. If he changes anywhere near as much as I did, then you could argue that you vanquished the monster that he was before, turning him back into a man. Perhaps you could play with that line of thought. Try to convince these people you care for that what you are doing is as much for them as whatever else they may of been expecting of you."

Harry looked dubious, but it was more of an idea than he'd had before.

"Why would you _want_ me to keep on with the Order members, though?" Harry asked.

"I cannot possibly expect you to abandon the life that you have lived these last five years, or the people who lived it by your side. I don't think that _you_ could actually stand that either. No matter how much my Harry suddenly feels affection for the Weasley family, it does not change the fact that the Weasley family _does not like him_. Nor does it make him care for his Slytherin housemates any less than he did before.

"Besides, you may find yourself in an even better position of unification than we have here. My ultimate goal would be to stabilize the control I already have over the Ministry and the school, and rid myself of the headache of the blasted Order and their little _insurgent_ group constantly fighting against me. As long as the Order sees me as an invading subjugator, occupying and taking over their once-free democracy — which is absolute rubbish, as the Ministry was _not_ an actual democracy by any stretch of the imagination, before all this… Anyway - the point is that as long as they see me as a conqueror, they will feel the need to rise up and fight against me. But if you play your cards right, you might be able to aid your Dark Lord in gaining a position of power _without_ the more obvious take-over that I conducted here."

Harry knew his face had to be an open book showing just how little he felt he'd be capable of doing anything of the sort but he managed to squash his doubt down, swallow the thick lump of self doubt down and give Marvolo a hesitant nod.

"I'll… I'll see what I can do," he said, his voice cracking slightly, causing him to scowl at himself afterwards.

"Now, hopefully you'll find yourself sufficiently prepared at this point, but I will make an effort to be as available as possible should something arise. Still, don't expect me to just _be here_ if you use the mirror to contact my Harry, at some random time. There will likely be a delay, but if it is of dire importance, my Harry has permission to use emergency means to get a hold of me and I will try to come as soon as possible."

"Oh, of course I don't expect you to just come running," Harry said, shaking his head. "I understand how busy you are, and it's amazing that you were willing to devote as much time as you have to me and my problems. I mean, it's not like you're responsible for _me_ at all. If anything, I've complicated things for you, and especially for the other Harry over there. You don't owe me _anything_. You've already done so much more for me than I ever could have hoped for."

"Nonsense. You are still _Harry,_ and I have taken Harry as my responsibility. My Harry and you, are in fact very nearly the same at this point, seeing as how both of you now possess the same memories of each others lives. Of course that are slight variations in memory priority and strength of impact, leaving the two of you still each unique in various ways, but you both remember the last few years of Harry's life here, and during that time, I took responsibility of you. To be suddenly ripped from that, and left to fend for yourself knowing you are now solely reliant on a man who is secretly planning your death… I could not possibly leave you to face that alone. I am not in a position to do much for you, but this was the least I could do."

Tears stung the corners of Harry's eyes and he ducked his head, embarrassed by the strength of the emotions coursing through him. He chewed on his lip, afraid that his voice would shake if he dared to try and say anything aloud.

"Thank you," he finally managed to rasp out before grabbing his glasses from his face and then roughly brushing the back of his arm across his face, wiping away the wetness that had collected there. A traitorous sniffle slipped through and Harry cleared his throat and focused on cleaning his glasses with the bottom of his shirt tails before putting them back on and trying to look calm.

"Now, I must go. But it appears that your counterpart here is not yet finished with you," Marvolo said, appearing to look off past the mirror to some spot in the distance. "I will take my leave. I wish you the best of luck," Marvolo finished, looking back at Harry.

"I… right. Okay. Thank you, again," Harry said, feeling awkward and unbalanced. "Um… goodbye."

"Goodnight, Harry," Marvolo said and his expression was reassuring and calm. But a moment later he stood up and as he moved his appearance shifted to mist and smoke and disappeared from the mirror.

The mirror remained vacant for only a moment longer, however, as soon Harry's alternate-reality counterpart entered the scene, sitting down where Marvolo had been only moments earlier.

Harry was flooded with embarrassment, hating that he was showing so much weakness and feeling stupid, knowing that his Slytherin-self probably witnessed his earlier near-breakdown.

"Hey, so…" the Slytherin-Harry began, and Harry instantly noticed that he seemed a lot more nervous and much less confident than Harry had yet to see him act before now. "I was hoping to ask your opinion about something."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, sitting forward curiously.

"Er, right… So… I mean, I _know_ that I remember the same stuff as you, and I _do_ feel like I lived this stuff myself… maybe I just want a second opinion…" he muttered the last bit, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

"What can I help with?" Harry asked, suddenly eager for any opportunity to help them, seeing as how much they had just helped him.

The Slytherin-Harry huffed a breath out through his nose before he seemed to refocus his determination. "If I were to arrange for Sirius to be released from Azkaban, do you think… I mean, would he even want to _look_ at me? Would he just run off and join the Order, and hate me, making the whole thing absolutely pointless, or…" he huffed out another breath, though this one sounded more defeated. "I dunno what I'm even saying."

"Sirius…" Harry whispered, feeling a little shellshocked by the sudden question. "I hadn't really thought… but yeah. He's still alive there. He's still in Azkaban…"

"Yeah. Three years longer than he was in your world."

Harry frowned then, a sudden scowl spreading across his face. "Wait a minute — the Order _knows_ about Pettigrew. Or at least, they know he's alive. He's been seen! He's participated in battles! Has no one bothered to fire up two brain-cells and connect the fact that Pettigrew is alive with the fact that Sirius is still in prison for _killing Pettigrew?_ "

"Well, he's in prison for more than just killing Pettigrew," Slytherin-Harry muttered. "But yeah - believe me, I've had the same irked realization."

"Well, maybe you could use that. To persuade him not to run off and join the Order, I mean," Harry offered. "Seeing as how they've obviously just _abandoned him_ there."

"Maybe that would keep him from joining up with the order, but that doesn't mean he'd want anything to do with _me_ instead. Maybe, I'm just setting myself up for some real hurt, and I should just ignore the whole thing. I just can't… forget. I guess. I _know_ he's there. He's alive, and he's still in that god-awful place. But it's not like I _need him_. Not like you did. You had _no one_. He was the closest you ever got to an adult who gave a shit about you on a more personal level, and even that was fucked up by Dumbledore. He did everything he could to keep you and Sirius apart — all in the name of keeping Sirius _safe_ ," Slytherin-Harry drawled, cynically.

Harry scowled. He hadn't really thought of it like that, but his other self definitely had a point.

"But then I think - 'Hell, I _don't_ need him', so what the hell does it matter if he rejects me? You know? I've got Marvolo. I'm _happy_. I don't really even have room for Sirius in my life. So, maybe I get him out of that shit hole, and let him be on his merry way. Just knowing he's not trapped in that prison anymore…"

"Yeah, definitely that, at least," Harry said, nodding his head. He could see how his other-self would be worried about the rejection. Even Harry himself wasn't really all that confident that Sirius would tolerate his Slytherin-counterpart's choices and alliances.

"Marvolo means the world to me," Slytherin-Harry said. "But he's also the man who killed James and Lilly. He's the man who _recruited_ Pettigrew to turn traitor. I just cannot fathom _any_ reality in which Sirius Black would be okay with any of that. I can't imagine _any_ way I could convince him to be okay with my loyalty to Marvolo. And I'd never be willing to prioritize Sirius over Marvolo and the life I've got here. If it came to an ultimatum - pick one or the other - the choice would be cut and dry. No matter how much I remember Sirius meaning the world to me; no matter how much I remember the excitement and relief, every time I got a letter from him; none of that actually matters. _Because none of that happened to me_. That happened _to you_. I can't…" Slytherin-Harry cut himself off and scowled off to the side.

"Believe me… I get you," Harry said softly.

The Slytherin-Harry frowned deeply, his brow furrowed with thought for several moments before he turned his gaze back on Harry. "But you're actually considering it."

"Considering what?"

"Switching. I mean… part of you is actually willing to sacrifice the stuff that _really happened to you_ in favor of the things you remember about _my life_. Even though you know you can't really have the same things I've built here because no one else remembers the things you remember. How… I mean, how do you even think that's going to work?"

Harry snorted bitterly. "I don't."

"That's harsh," the Slytherin-Harry said in a commiserating tone. "Well… at least you seem to be making some progress on the Draco-front. I noticed he was there most of the night."

"He's still here, actually. He's working a bit behind me on this project — it's actually an assignment that Voldemort gave him."

Harry glanced over towards Draco, who had obviously heard his name mentioned because his head had popped up and he was looking over towards Harry curiously.

"Yeah… that's so weird to think that he's actually _Marked_."

"Well, it's not exactly because the Dark Lord _needs_ underaged wizards to work for him. It's really sort of a _punishment_ thing," Harry said with a sigh.

"Yea, I get that. Merlin, I hope that this thing soul-thing you're working on succeeds, just for the sake of saving Dray from your crazy-ass Voldemort's vicious temper."

Harry snorted. "You know… you're a lot more tolerable now than you were the last couple times we spoke…"

The Slytherin-Harry groaned miserably and let his head fall limply into his head. "Don't remind me. You are definitely rubbing off on me. It's weirding everyone out. _Me especially._ I don't even realize I'm acting so out of character until someone mentions it, and I _hate_ that I can't tell I'm acting weird."

"Wow… how's Marvolo handling it?"

Slytherin-Harry rolled his eyes. "He finds it amusing, believe it or not."

"Wow - really?"

"I think he finds this whole thing fascinating. He also thinks that this has sort of proven Headmistress Sakndenberg's argument about the Hat having way too much power over people's destinies. I mean, look at how vastly different our two worlds turned out, just because of the decision of an enchanted hat made about _one kids_ sorting."

Harry barked out a laugh and nodded. "Blimey, you're right."

"Can you imagine what you'd find if _Marvolo_ were able to look in the mirror, and see a world where _he'd_ been sorted into a different house?"

"Wow… that's difficult to even wrap my mind around…" Harry muttered, wide-eyed.

"He's actually considered looking for it, but he doubts it would be powerful enough to still work on someone as old as he is. I mean, that'd be more than 50-years of memories since he was sorted."

"Yeah, and I think Marvolo is fine the way he is… well, since he fixed himself, anyway. Obviously there was a very big chunk there in the middle where things were less than stellar…"

"He's _still_ less than _stellar_ in your world," Slytherin-Harry pointed out.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah, okay… valid point. Merlin… what would happen if _my_ Voldemort looked into the mirror?"

"Hah. Well, if restoring his soul somehow doesn't work out for you, maybe you could consider giving that idea a try instead. Maybe his alternate-house self wouldn't have ever made any horcruxes, and so wouldn't have ever lost his marbles."

Harry snorted and shook his head in amusement.

"So are things going well with you and your Draco?"

Harry blinked, caught slightly off guard by the question. "Er… yeah. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just fascinated by the idea that you've managed such a one-eighty there. The two of you had such a hostile relationship before."

"Yeah… I'm pretty amazed too," Harry glanced over towards Draco, who looked like he was pretending not to listen. "But I'm _so grateful_ too. I think I'd be going completely mad if I didn't have him to talk to right now."

"Oh? Talking? Is that all? How _boring_."

Harry felt his face flush and took another hesitant side-ways glance towards Draco, who was completely motionless at the moment.

" _Come on_. Eight days ago he still despised me _._ That first night I got a hold of you and your Draco through the mirror was the night I first told _my Draco_ about everything. That was only one week ago."

"Excuses, excuses."

Harry barked a laugh. "What would you have me do?"

"Snog him! You need it, and I bet he'd love it. Besides, you're still a bloody _virgin_ over there. That's just unacceptable. A situation so dire _must_ be rectified."

"Bloody hell! Would you shut up! He's _here!"_

Slytherin-Harry laughed and Harry felt his own face go deep scarlet and hot with embarrassment.

Muffled snickering could be heard and Harry looked over to find Draco holding his hand over his mouth, valiantly trying to stifle his apparent amusement.

Harry rolled his eyes and gave his counterpart an entirely unimpressed glare. "Thanks," he said sarcastically.

"Oh please - you know you'll thank me for breaking the ice some. We both know you _want_ to snog him, you're just afraid of scaring him off. Plus, I guess, there's also probably that whole _virgin_ thing."

Harry guffawed. "Oi! Honestly, I know that technically you're right, but I don't _feel_ like one — a virgin, I mean…"

"Mmm… Yeah, well at least you've got plenty of material for the wank-back thanks to _my_ memories. You're welcome, by the way."

"Bloody hell, Harry — your other-self is a perv," Draco's clearly amused voice broke in as he stood up and came over.

Harry felt his face go hot again and he turned and _glared_ at his Slytherin-self very threateningly.

This, however, really only seemed to amuse his alternate-reality self, since he just smirked back. "I blame him," Slytherin-Harry said to Draco dismissively, gesturing towards Harry.

"Bullshit!" Harry exclaimed with a bark of laughter.

"Okay, fine. Then I blame _my_ Draco. How's that?" Slytherin-Harry said as he leaned forward and _leered_ at Draco who had now come to sit beside Harry and had obviously become visible to the Harry on the other side of the mirror.

Draco guffawed. "Oh really?"

"Mmm, yes, definitely. You've turned me into a sexual deviant."

"Me?!"

Slytherin-Harry rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. " _My_ version of you. _My Draco_ is the _real_ perv. I've just adapted to indulged him."

"This is _so_ weird," Draco said, though he sounded incredibly amused.

"So, be honest with me, Draco," Slytherin-Harry began, leaning forward again and looking to have a rather devious and playful glint in his eye that put Harry on guard. "Would you like for Harry over there to snog you senseless? Because he'd be able to give you one hell of a ride. I know all of my Draco's most sensitive spots and every one of his kinks. I probably know ways to please you that _you_ don't even know yet. And everything _I_ know, _he_ knows," he grinned indecently and Harry was overcome with the desire to bury his head in the ground. Instead he just buried his face in his hands and groaned in embarrassment.

"Make it stop," Harry muttered from beneath his hands.

"Well, gosh, he _does_ make one hell of an argument," Draco drawled in a tone that was both thoughtful and playful.

Harry peaked over at him from between his fingers, unable to hide his curiosity.

Slytherin-Harry let out a laugh that bordered on a _cackle. "_ Well, I suppose it _is_ getting rather late. I'm satisfied with the evening, I think I'll leave you two _alone_."

"You're an arse," Harry said, giving his alternate self a deadpanned look of annoyance.

"You're welcome," Slytherin-Harry said in a sing-song tone. "I'll be keeping the mirror on me, I think, so if you find you need to get a hold of me, I'll feel the tug. Sound good?"

"Er. Yeah. Great. I guess I'll do the same."

"I can already confirm that the thing is nearly indestructible. Probably two weeks after this whole thing started I got especially angry and tried to smash it, but it didn't work," Slytherin-Harry said.

"Oh. Well… great… I guess."

"Well, goodnight you two. Even if you don't need help anytime soon, drop me a line in a couple weeks. I'd love to hear how things are going."

"Yeah, sure," Harry agreed with a nod of his head. "I guess… thanks. For everything." He paused and looked over at Draco, felt himself blush, and then looked back to the mirror. "Even the _teasing_. Anyway, you can feel free to call me too, if anything comes up. And erm… if you decide to move on the Sirius thing — I'd like to hear how that turns out."

Slytherin-Harry looked a bit more sober at the mention of Sirius, and gave Harry a short firm nod in response. "Will do."

"Okay, goodnight," Harry said.

'G'night. To both of you. Oh, and Draco? Enjoy him. He'll worship you if you let him."

Harry felt himself flush again and watched as his other self laughed and then faded into mist before vanishing from the mirror entirely.

Draco was chuckling when Harry risked a glance back in his direction.

"Well, this has certainly been an interesting evening," Draco said.

"It's been a real roller coaster for me. Bloody hell, what a night…"

"Mmm… though I wouldn't necessarily say it has to be over _just_ yet," Draco said in an airy tone, looking away with faux innocence.

"Oh?" Harry asked, unable to keep the interest from his tone.

"Those were some rather lofty promises the other you made. Makes me wonder if you could really follow through, or if he was just making unwarranted boasts. Or maybe _he_ would be able to follow through, but _you —"_

Before Draco could finish his words Harry had grabbed him by the loose tie around his neck and was kissing him. But this was a much deeper kiss than the rather innocent little pecks from earlier in the week. It was open-mouthed with a confident, adventurous tongue, and a passionate energy.

Draco squeaked with surprise at first before making a pleased sort of humming sound a moment later. Harry pushed him sideways, maneuvering his body over as he continued to press forward and move Draco into the position he wanted.

They'd been sitting cross-legged on the floor, so there wasn't far to go and soon Harry had Draco on his back and was straddling his hips, still lip-locked; still passionate.

Part of Harry wasn't even sure where this courage and confidence had come from, but another part of Harry felt like this was the most natural thing in the world. He knew precisely what he was doing, and his other-self was _right_. Harry _knew_ just what to do. He _knew_ what Draco would like best, and he knew what would get him the most turned on.

Harry ran his hand up and down Draco's side, sliding in under his shirt and running his fingertips over Draco's ribs with feather-light teasing touches. Draco shuddered and made the most wonderful sound. He sounded surprised, and yet also clearly very pleased.

Harry's hand continued to explore, moving up and beginning to tease at Draco's nipple, eliciting several small gasps, each of which Harry took advantage of to kiss deeper. He pulled back neck and trailed his mouth over Draco's sharp angled jaw, nipping playfully at the skin there before pulling Draco's ear lobe in between his teeth and sucking on it for a moment. Then his tongue went out and trailed around Draco's outer earlobe, and Harry took a moment to marvel with utter _glee_ the fact that Draco was practically _writhing_ beneath him. His chest was heaving with deep, fast, breaths, and his mouth was wide open, gasping and whimpering.

"Beautiful," Harry rasped before dropping down again and biting at Draco's jaw before trailing down further and sucking on the blond's pale neck.

"Oh gods…" Draco moaned and Harry felt as the other teens hips bucked and thrust up, probably unconsciously searching for friction. Harry ground down, unable to stop himself even while a part in the back of his mind was terrified that he was moving too fast and he'd end up scaring Draco off.

Draco grunted and suddenly Harry felt the blond's hands reaching up and gripping Harry's hips and arse, using his new purchase to leverage himself up and enthusiastically grind back.

" _Yesss_ …" Harry said, letting his breath fan out across the wet skin of Draco's neck and shoulder. "Gods, yes… Merlin, Draco, I want… I… _oh_ …"

" _More_ ," was all Draco managed to get out, his voice sounding both pleading and demanding.

Harry went back to Draco's mouth, kissing deeply and hungrily as he rhythmically rolled his hips and his groin against Draco's. He could feel the other teens erection through his pants and warred against his instincts to reach down and relieve Draco of the troublesome garment.

Harry was saved the trouble of making the move when one of Draco's hands left Harry's arse and slipped in between them, making quick work of his own button and zipper.

"C-cahh… can I?" Draco panted between kisses, his hand now pressing against the fly of Harry's pants.

"Oh hell _yes_ ," Harry groaned as he pulled his hips up enough to make Draco's efforts less cumbersome.

Draco was clearly caught off guard by the fact that Harry was not wearing any pants beneath his trousers, but was also quite pleased by it. Harry took his one free hand and slipped it beneath the elastic waistband of Draco's pants and shoved them down enough to free Draco's member of his confinement. Both grabbed each other at virtually the same time and both moaned deeply into each others mouths before resuming the passioned kissing and beginning to awkwardly stroke each other.

They were grinding their hips into each other's hands now while consecutively rubbing against each other. Harry was lost in how amazing it felt. How natural, and how _right_.

"So good. So perfect," Harry rasped between heated kisses.

"Oh god… oh _god_ …" Draco whispered as his desperation seemed to be growing in intensity.

"Say my name," Harry said suddenly, still working against the other teen.

"Wha—?"

" _Say my name_ ," Harry said again, but more demanding now.

"Harry. _Harry_ ," Draco gasped. "Gah… _Harry! Oh, fuck… Har.. ha… I'm — Oh god, I'm —"_

" _Hnnnnghh…"_ Harry growled before gasping and beginning to spasm with waves of sudden intense pleasure.

Draco made a strangled moan, shaking almost convulsively and gripping Harry's arse so hard with his free hand that Harry suspected there'd be a mark.

Wetness covered Harry's hand and groin as the pair of them had come at nearly the same time. Harry let his head fall down limply as all the energy drained from him, his forehead now resting on Draco's chest, as he panted great heaving breaths.

The intensity of moments earlier was now replaced with a wonderful lull of comfort and contentment. The arm that Harry had been using to support his weight finally gave up and he fell down and rolled into Draco's side, still panting but smiling dumbly.

Draco looked equally stunned, but also clearly very very satisfied.

"That was… bloody… _amazing_ ," Draco panted.

Harry smiled smugly. "Yes. Yes it was."

Draco chuckled quietly.

The two laid there in silence for several minutes longer, catching their breaths and letting their speeding hearts calm back down.

"Merlin, I wish I could just crawl into your bed and sleep there for the night," Harry said with a sigh.

"Did they do that a lot? The other you and me?"

Harry hummed and nodded. "Our beds were right next to each other, so it was easy. Blaise insisted we use that one-way silence charm he made Greg and Vince learn back in second year, so he wouldn't have to hear them snoring at night, and then so he wouldn't have to hear us snogging at night. It was super-convenient."

Draco snorted. "I'm definitely still not used to that."

"Hm?"

"You talking about things that happened in the dorm like you were there. I guess in your head you _were_ , it's just strange."

"Mmm. Yeah. Especially for me. It's also depressing. I've got all these fond memories of spending time with you and the guys, but none of you remember any of it, because it didn't _actually happen_. Not here, anyway. I mean… I _like_ Theo. I _like_ Blaise. They're great guys. Even Vince and Greg are fine enough to be around, though mostly they just kind of grunt, eat sweets, and take up space. But every one of those guys would like nothing more than to hex my nuts off right now. It's just really… sucks."

Draco snorted and shook his head, looking a bit dazed. "Definitely strange." He shifted and pushed himself up on one elbow, supporting his head and turned to the side so he could more easily look at Harry. "What about your memories of your Gryffindor dorm room though? It's not like you've _forgotten_ all of that - right?"

"No - haven't forgotten anything. I still remember all the time spent with Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Ron. You know, oddly enough, I've never gotten super-close with Seamus or Dean, and I only started to get to know Neville last year when he joined the DA. The first few years here, I really sort of isolated myself a lot. Or maybe _Ron_ isolated me… or I let myself be isolated by Ron… whatever. I think he grew up having to _share_ everything, and he didn't want to _share me_ , if that makes any sense. When I was a Slytherin, I didn't isolate myself from anyone in the house. I don't think you would have let me, honestly…"

"Still strange."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Hm… well, getting the Slytherins to like you seems like a pretty daunting task, but might not be _quite_ as hopeless as you'd think, if we really are able to help the Dark Lord get his sanity back, and manage to end up in his favor. I mean, _I've_ managed to come around rather quickly in regards to you, and I don't think there was _anyone_ who hated you more than I did."

"Yeah, but you were also already attracted to me. I mean, lets be honest here — you're not here because you've developed some deep affection for my personality; you're here because you're curious about how this insane thing will play out, you're hoping I can save your ass from Voldemort, and because you find the idea of being dominated by me really hot."

Draco's face could not have possibly gotten more red than it did at that moment.

"I — I _do not!_ That's _absurd!"_ Draco exclaimed shrilly.

Harry pushed himself up on his own elbow and smirked back. "Don't take it like it's a bad thing. Some people just really _like that_. I mean, I even liked letting you take the lead when you actually got in the right mood to try taking the reigns every once in a blue moon. It was just that more often then not you really liked it when I took control. Being ordered around when we fooled around always got you extra hot and bothered. Took me ages to get you to admit it though, because you found it embarrassing. But once we had that really worked out, things got exciting fast. Like… I should stop talking about stuff our counterparts did like it was us, shouldn't I?" Harry stopped himself when he finally registered the incredulous look on Draco's face.

"Yes. You should."

"Right… sorry."

"Bloody hell, this is mental," Draco muttered, looking anywhere but at Harry and still incredibly red in the face. It contrasted starkly with his platinum blond hair and Harry had to restrain himself from saying something about it out loud. He had a feeling that Draco would not appreciate being teased just then.

"I'm not here _just_ because of all that," Draco muttered several moments later.

"Huh?"

"Just because I'm curious and I'm hoping you can… _save me_ or whatever… I mean, you _are_ right. That is a _big_ part of why I agreed to come in the first place. But it's _more_ then just…" Draco made a frustrated, irritated sort of noise and scowled off into the distance.

Harry smiled softly. "That's nice to know. Thanks. I'm hoping that the more you hang around me, the more things will… grow, I guess. I mean, relationships develop over time. I have years of memories of the two of us growing close, but all you've got are years of the two of us arguing and hexing each other. I'm not expecting some miracle.

"I mean, I told myself I'd even be happy with only a physical relationship that had no romantic feelings from you at all, because I thought that was the best I had any right to hope for. When you said you'd fancied me, I knew it was a just physical attraction, not something _emotional._ There's just been too much antagonism between us, and I _know_ you've got no respect for all my self-righteous Gryffindor superiority, and we both know that most of the stuff I've accomplished the last few years that got any accolades was mostly because I got dropped into shitty situations and was too stubborn to _die_. Not because I was particularly skilled or talented."

"I don't…" Draco started but hesitated and looked mildly conflicted. "I haven't always _entirely_ hated how you've acted over the years. It was _irritating_ , and the fact that it was like, you could get away with _anything_ because you were _Harry-bloody-Potter,_ was always shite… but _maybe_ some of the stuff you've managed to do was kind of… impressive," he muttered this last bit with the sort of scowl you'd expect from someone who had just ingested one of Fred and George's Puking Pastilles. "Like that dragon in fourth year… that was _amazing_ ," Draco added, and Harry was surprised by the authentic tone of his voice.

Harry ducked his head a bit, trying to hide the huge grin that had worked its way on to his face.

"What about _me?_ Did you like _anything_ about me, before this mirror insanity started?"

"I… I'm really not _sure_ ," Harry said, shaking his head. "It's so hard for me to remember what it was like before, since so much of what I think and feel right now feels perfectly normal. Like, it's always been this way — even though I know it hasn't. But I do know that Gryffindor-me was irritated that you were so good looking."

"Irritated?" Draco said with a laugh.

"Yeah, and mind you, this was before I'd even admitted to myself that I was gay, but I distinctly remember thinking that it wasn't fair that someone who looked that good was such a prat."

Draco chuckled and grinned. "Honestly, I think I may have had the same thought once or twice."

Harry smiled, then took a moment to just look at Draco, still propped up beside him — the two of them laying on the floor surrounded by veritable mountains of junk — just taking the whole thing in and marveling at the fact that he was honestly _happy_. Even though his life felt like it had been put inside a blender… at least this one thing made him feel happy.

"Today has been a _good_ day," Harry said with a sigh. "Never could have dreamt that it would turn out this great."

Draco chuckled, smiling back softly. "You know Po… _Harry_ ," Draco began, correcting himself, "I know that you'd said that the Dark Lord in this other world of yours was _different_ , but I never _ever_ would have expected him to be _that_ different."

"Hah - yeah. Definitely not recognizable as the same man that we know as Voldemort."

"Only you and Dumbledore actually _say_ —

"Yeah, yeah - _The Dark Lord_. But Marvolo is nothing like our Dark Lord here. I respect the Dark Lord of my counterpart's world. Marvolo is _amazing_. I'm still so excited that I got to speak to him. Before this it kind of felt like… like he'd _died_ or something. It felt like I'd lost him forever, and I had no chance to ever see him again. Even if I were to succeed in restoring the soul of _our_ Dark Lord, I knew he'd never be the same Marvolo that I remember. And I never imagined that I'd get to speak with Marvolo through the mirror so it was like… he was just _gone_. But now I know he's not. It's such a tremendous relief."

"I'm happy for you," Draco said, and Harry was caught off guard by how sincere he sounded. "I'm also rather relieved that you've managed to get such a thorough guide for what steps to take to address the matter of _our_ Dark Lord."

"Yeah," Harry agreed with a relieved chuckle. "Things are really looking up. Even if I still have no idea exactly what I'm going to do if and when I _do_ in fact succeed."

"Mmm," Draco hummed and nodded. "You know, it's getting _awfully late_ and you're going to need to come up with a believable excuse to give your goody-goody worshippers for why you're out so late. It's nearly ten o'clock and I doubt Granger and the Weasel have missed your absence. Honestly, you'll be lucky if they haven't freaked out and reported you missing."

Harry grimaced. "Bloody hell, you're right."

"Well… I _do_ have an idea… _for tonight at least_ ," Draco said, and he was giving Harry a rather playful look that caught Harry by surprise.

"Oh?"

"Mmhmm," Draco hummed, a devious look in his eyes as he pushed up and over, catching Harry by surprise and pinning _him_ onto his back. A moment later the blond was attacking Harry's neck, sucking on Harry's flesh and then biting little trails. Harry gasped and let out a startled yelp and chuckle before it morphed into something of a moan.

"Wha… what the he… _Draco_ , bloody hell… keep that up and I might be ready to go another round."

Draco seemed to chuckle against Harry's neck before pulling back and appearing to examine his handy work.

"What the hell was that all about? Not that I'm complaining," Harry asked, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

"I've provided you with an excuse to give your friends," Draco stated, smugly.

"An excuse?" Harry laughed.

"Yes. Evidence of the naughty naughty things you've been up to. Saying that you've been out snogging someone is a considerably less worrisome and threatening excuse than anything else they have have thought up."

It was like a light came on behind Harry's eyes as he got exactly what Draco was up to.

"Oh! So I tell them I've been out snogging someone! Yeah, you're right - that is a much less concerning excuse than just about anything else. And totally believable too. Hah… Brilliant Dray. But the question is, _who_ do I tell them I was snogging?"

"That's not my problem," Draco said flippantly as he fully pushed himself up onto his knees, stood the rest of the way and began to get himself sorted out a bit. His wand was out an instant later banishing the evidence of their earlier efforts, and Harry stood and did the same. Pants and trousers were put to order, though Draco tucked and pulled at Harry's shirt, intentionally making it look a bit disheveled.

"I think I might actually use this opportunity to come out to them," Harry said as he began working around the small space he'd been occupying, gathering up his notes and the mirror.

"They don't know you're gay?" Draco said in surprise.

Harry shook his head. "Nope. Super-denial-mode before all this, remember? Telling them after it started to become obvious I couldn't ignore it anymore would have been too closely tied to the Mirror thing, and I was afraid they were already thinking it had changed me too much. I didn't want to freak them out."

"So what's changed now? It's still been less than two months since the mirror thing happened, right?"

"Yeah, but… I don't know. I've got more of a handle on it now. My head was still super-scrambled before — well, it stil _is_ a bit scrambled, but I feel a little less messed up now than I did before. I think I can pull off coming out to them now. I _also_ think that the shock of it will distract them a bit from the fact that it's _really_ late."

"Well, good luck," Draco drawled as he finished gathering up his own supplies from around the cabinet. "When do you think you'll start working on summoning the soul bits or whatever?"

"I'd like to get started tomorrow, but I suppose it'll depend on when I can find the time. I've got a free period tomorrow, but so does Ron and he'll expect to spend it with me. Plus… I _do_ actually have homework I need to work on."

"Ugh… don't remind me. I'm falling behind in so many of my classes this year."

"Well, I'll keep helping with the cabinet as much as I can."

Draco waved him off. "Don't be silly. Your work is much more important that opening up a secret way for a bunch of crazed wizards to come in and ransack the school."

Harry gave Draco something of a commiserating look. Draco _had_ to work on his assignment because it could mean the different between life and death, but they both knew that succeeding in it would have some other equally unpleasant effects of it own.

The pair made their way down the narrow winding path between towering piles of junk that led to the door and paused there while Harry fished out his invisibility cloak.

"You need help getting down to the dungeons?" Harry asked.

"No, I'll be fine. If Filch makes a stink about it, Professor Snape will take care of it. As far as he's concerned, I'm working on my task for the Dark Lord and he's supposed to help me with things like covering for me."

"Alright, if you're sure." Harry paused then and hesitated. It was strange how he could go from so confident and able to push the blond to the ground and snog him senseless, to now feeling _nervous_ again. It was stupid. With this thought in mind, he pushed forward, kissing Draco forcefully while grabbing the back of his head with one hand.

Draco responded in kind, which was _thrilling_ , and the two had to pull themselves apart a minute later or else risk finding it much more difficult to stop. Harry panted slightly, feeling the thrill rushing through him and having to force himself to calm down.

He grinned, seeing a similar excitement on Draco's face. "Goodnight Draco. I'll try to find time tomorrow to work in here, but if not, I'll definitely see you in the next few days — yeah?"

"Yeah," Draco nodded. "Goodnight Harry. Today was… insane. But… nice."

Draco pushed forward and gave Harry a much quicker peck on the lips as a final parting, and the two opened the door, slipped out, and parted ways.

It only took a minute before Harry was crawling his way through the portrait hold to the Gryffindor common room.

He was still hidden beneath his invisibility cloak and had pushed the Fat Lady's portrait 'door' open slowly and as little as he could manage and still slip through. He peaked around inside and was relieved to find that it was mostly deserted. Ron and Hermione were there, however, obviously waiting for him.

Hermione noticed the portrait hole opening up first and sat up straighter looking at the empty space with a worried yet hopeful expression. Harry glanced around again, making sure no one else was actually looking his way before pulling the invisibility cloak off his head.

"Oh thank _Merlin_ ," Hermione exclaimed, jumping up and rushing over. Ron startled to attention and eagerly discarded what looked like it was probably homework and jumped up as well.

"My god, Harry! Where have you been! We were so worried!" Hermione exclaimed, though her voice was somewhat hushed as it was obvious she wasn't eager to draw unnecessary attention to them.

"Er…" Harry muttered before removing the rest of his cloak and jerking his head towards one of the far corners of the room that was presently empty. They followed him over there and sat in a tight circle while Harry stuffed his invisibility cloak into his rucksack.

"Well?!" Ron asked impatiently.

"Well… I was in the Room of Requirement," Harry started hesitantly.

"The Room of Requirement? The whole time? Why!?" Hermione asked.

"Er - not exactly the _whole_ time. I mean, I really did start out with a walk around the castle like I told Ron. I just sort of… ran into someone and we got to talking."

"Someone? Who?"

"Uh… just… someone," Harry muttered, looking away slightly before clearing his throat. "Then we uh… went into the Room of Requirement for some… you know… privacy. And we got to talking some more, and uh…"

"Harry," Ron asked, his voice taking on an interesting tenor.

"Er, yeah?"

"Is that a hickey?"

Harry felt his face flush and was glad for the reaction as it only helped him. Still, part of him _was_ legitimately embarrassed, as well as elated and excited. It really was an amalgam of different emotions.

"I… uhm… yes?"

Hermione gasped, leaning in and looking much more closely now. "That's _several_ hickeys! Harry James Potter! You've been _snogging someone!_ "

Harry couldn't help the stupid grin that spread across his face and he momentarily ducked his head and hid his face behind his hand before peaking out and chuckling a bit.

"Bloody hell, Hermione. You make it sound like a crime," Harry said with a laugh.

"Not a _crime_ ," she said defensively now. "Just — Merlin, do you have _any idea_ how worried I was!? And here you were, just off _snogging_ someone!

"I'm _sorry!_ It wasn't really _planned_ or anything. I mean, I seriously had no intention of staying out this late - we just lost track of time."

"Who is _we?_ I mean, who were you off snogging?" Ron asked.

"Was it Cho?" Hermione asked and Harry instinctively made a face.

"Cho?! Oh no - not Cho," Harry said, shaking his head and waving his hands. "Cho… Cho was a mistake, really… a train wreck is more like it," Harry muttered.

Hermione gave something of a one-shouldered shrug, clearly not disagreeing with him.

"I — okay, there's something I've actually been wanting to tell you guys, it's just… it's been hard. Figuring out how to do it — and I want to make sure that you guys don't think that this has anything to do with the mirror, _because it doesn't_. It was true even _before_ the mirror, I was just more determined to keep my head in the dirt and ignore it. It's just… it's like, I wanted this _one thing_ about my life to be _normal_. Just _one thing._ Is that really so much to ask? So I pretended I was. I pretended not to _notice_ — but I can't pretend anymore. Denial isn't healthy anyway, right?"

"Mate, I have _no idea_ what you're even saying," Ron said.

"Harry, just say it," Hermione added, sounding much more encouraging than Ron.

"I… I'm gay," Harry said, and it was so weird to just _say it_ like that. On one hand, he was used to being _out_ from his Slytherin memories, but absolutely _not_ here, in his real world.

Ron gaped, clearly completely blindsided by this.

Hermione's face with a mask of shock as well. "Oh. Oh, wow," she said, seeming to take a second to actually take this revelation in. "Oh _Merlin_ , Harry! I had no idea! Oh, and you've been holding this in all this time?"

"Well, I don't know about that. I mean, like I said I was in pretty strong denial for a _long_ time. The last thing I wanted was for one more thing about me to make me weird and freakish."

"Harry, you are _not_ weird or freakish!" Hermione scolded him instantly.

Harry rolled his eyes and smiled at her. "Yeah, yeah. Well, like I said - denial. It really hasn't been _that_ long since I finally started to come to terms with it."

"So… that thing with Cho—?" Ron asked, and he honestly looked somewhat bewildered by the whole thing.

"Denial? Self-delusion? A desperate attempt to pretend everything is normal? Take your pick, Ron. They're all true, really."

Ron nodded his head in a slow distracted sort of manner before his face scrunched up and he grimaced. "Wait - so that means that you were in the Room of Requirement snogging _a bloke!?"_

Harry laughed and nodded. "Yes Ron, I was out snogging _a bloke_."

"Ew," Ron said, his face still twisted up.

"Ron, don't be such an idiot," Hermione said, shoving him him in the shoulder and rolling her eyes.

"So, uhh… who?" Ron asked, switching to hesitantly curious.

"I… I'm not sure I should say," Harry said, looking around as if he were suddenly extra paranoid about being overheard. "I mean, he's not _out_ either. It's really not my secret to tell. And it's not like he and I are really _serious_ or anything. It was just sort of… messing around," Harry finished this, ducking his head and grinning somewhat stupidly. Most of what he said was at least partially a lie, but there was enough reality behind it all that he could easily draw forth the appropriate emotions.

"Well, are you sure he's… safe?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "He's a Hufflepuff." Ron's eyes took on the look of someone counting people in their head, so Harry added, "and he's not in our year. That's all I'm telling you!"

Ron just huffed out a sigh and shrugged. "Fine, whatever."

"Anyway, I might… you know… try to sneak off with him again later this week." Hermione started to open her mouth as if to say something or protest in some way. Harry held up his hand and pressed on, "I promise to let you guys know ahead of time, so you don't worry — okay? And I doubt I'll do it tomorrow because I've got a mountain of homework to catch up on right now. Okay?"

Hermione closed her mouth and looked reasonably satisfied. "Okay. Just _be careful_."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm _fine_ Hermione. Don't worry."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered.

"Anyway, like I said, I've let myself fall behind on a few things, so I'm gonna try and cram in some work before bed, okay?"

Ron and Hermione both nodded and agreed and soon Harry was able to pull out his school work and get a few things taken care of before heading up to his dorm room and going to bed.


End file.
